A Pirate Fool's Gold
by Ammom
Summary: Every Sky Pirate's dream is to find the Paradise of Lights - Zanarkand. The resting between the two worlds of Ivalice and Spira. Balthier's dream sends him on this quest. His encounter with new friends leads him to adventure, chivalry, love, and chaos.R
1. PROLOGUE

**Morality**

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Close your eyes and breathe out,

Releasing all your pain.

Pray that your mortal soul,

Will go back from whence it came.

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Find an answer to a question,

You still have yet to ask.

Confide a gallant point,

And make a factor last.

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Plant some flowers or a tree or two,

So life will spread where it's been picked.

Keep the cycle going,

Filling the holes where it's been nicked.

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Raise your hands in assurance,

Let the world rest in relief.

Lay down the laws of nation's justice,

Morality will keep it brief.

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Your dreams may stay where you dream,

Neither stirring and nor live.

But take comfort in forever knowing,

The peace that life will give.

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Take pride in all your faults,

And know this saying true.

To take fool's gold is very foolish,

No mater what, when, or who.

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_**AUTHOR'S NOTE**_: I thought I'd make a note that this story idea came from a collogue vid I started. To see a visual of this story's basis, then check my profile for the link to the vid. However, it has spoilers. 

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Also note that this story will take a little while to really get started, but it has a good start. Includes characters from various other Final Fantasys and terms and situations easily recognizable. Events are even followed through, but in a different fashion.

And to answer any questions about it now, I _did _write this poem. Long before I started this story, but it inspired the story's start and the title.

**Also: **If you like Final Fantasy fanfics, and are interested, I have unique forums dedicated to fanfictions for _Final Fantasy_. Check the beginning of my profile for the link.


	2. CHPT 1: Pirate Fool

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Pirate Fool **

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* * *

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**THE** pale paranoma waning at the horizon's edge pulled the curious to it. It was rumored that the colossal city – said to be lit by the stars themselves – lay just beyond the pilot's reach. Where no sunlight shined, and there was no end to the constant stream of chaos issuing into the streets. Where some of the world's greatest treasures rested in the hands of fools. A formidable desire – a challenge and goal Sky Pirates spent most of their lives trying to fulfill.

_"Nothing but a fool's dream, it is chased by the greatest fool of them all."_

The words tossed against the sides of the Pirate Fool's mind – the seething comments of a departed and disregarded father who had done nothing more then disapprove of his son's choices. The statements that drew a wall between the fool and his gold in the dark nights when there was no reassurance to pull him through.

"A fool is at best a coward…"

Sitting across from her long time partner and companion, Fran pointed a delicate, button nose at him. With attentive, narrow eyes gathering in the man's every distinct detail, from the length of his fingernails to the wavy ridge of his hairline bordering erect ears, she prompted in a strong, dreamy Icelandic accent, "Balthier?"

The emphasis on the last syllable of his name drew the Sky Pirate from the encompass of old memories. With an inquiring sound in his throat, the man met his partner's eyes and for a brief moment, they shared the same notion. As Fran opened her mouth to acquire a better taste of Balthier's thoughts, he was already redirecting his attention to the reddening sky stretched out before them.

"Some things go better left unsaid," the youth noted, his own British accent laying the words on thick in a firm tone. Balthier left little room for argument.

Despite the duo's years together, Fran continued to retain the short end of their partnership. No matter the number of in-depth conversations they had, and no matter how much time passed as they ventured over the world, the setup was the same. The world changed consistently around him, while Balthier remained ever the wistful, prominent person Fran found herself cascading heard over paws for.

With a soft grimace, she peered down at her human-shaped olive hands, with the white nails that marked her different. One long ear flickered in reflex as her deep concentration picked up the roar of the airship's engine. Flowing, white curls brushing against her chin – sending a familiar tickle through her – the Viera shook her head and dropped her hands to her lap with a sigh. Cursed with the appearance of a clash between a hume and a common rabbit, Fran remained the unthinkable option in Balthier's lonely lifestyle.

Glancing sideways at her distracted partner, the Viera thought grimly, _It never matters the number of women he woos. Balthier remains the un-changeling and fool in his father's eyes._

Perhaps if Balthier had accepted pity, Fran would have said something right then. However, the Viera's deeper understanding made her bite her tongue, and she returned her attention to the Strahl's controls. The airship ran in working order. Their path remained smooth and straight – with nothing spread out in any direction for miles.

For years, Balthier had spoken of this Paradise of Lights – had called it a 'Fool's Dream'. To the Sky Pirate guilds, it was better known as Fool's Gold. Inspiring and pretty, but not true and real. Some pirates thought the rumor was inspired by Spira's Malcalania Woods, where the pyreflies' subtle lights amongst the depths of the blue-black trunks shone brightly against the starry sky. Perhaps at the right angle overlooking Guadosalam, a drunk pirate could mistaken the cavern stronghold for something more.

Spira was on the other side of the world – the half that remained discreet and cutoff from Ivalice. The use of mechanics was forbidden to them by the preaching of Yu Yevon. It was interesting to see the differences between the two lands, and how they really were worlds apart from one another.

_Worlds apart and one large ocean_, Fran noted as she gazed distantly towards the unknown lands. At this rate, they would surely reach Spira, and the Strahl would gain immediate, unwanted attention. As a code of conduct, the two halves of the planet rarely interacted. A merchant may pass from one to the other, but connections remained limited. Spira wanted to keep order and control over their people. For this, they didn't want the temptations of the Promised Land of Ivalice posing any threats.

As if the pirate captain had been reading her thoughts, Balthier stated in a confident, inquiring voice, "Remember Fran, not all the world's as free as it wishes to be."

Giving a subtle nod as her long hair bobbed behind her, the Viera noted with a small smug smile, "Perhaps…or maybe not as free as some would like."

Returning the knowing smile, Balthier gave no reply to this. Instead, his response was to pull back on some controls and press deeply into a large button. The Strahl sped away into the deepening twilight, carrying a fool closer to a fool's dream.

-

* * *

**Inspired Music: **"Foolish Dreams" - _Evenspeak_


	3. CHPT 2: Inner Urges

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Inner Urges  
**

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* * *

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**NIGHT** spread as a thin veil over Spira as the nation's lights dimmed to a soothing fiery glow. The distant rhythm of doors closing sank into the silence that had overcome the weary, and sullen heads being laid to rest. The small village of Besaid – sitting alone on an island luscious with life, integrity, and dreaming – remained an exception. As the rest of Spira succumbed to slumber, the villagers of Besaid strode from their dome-shaped dwellings into the sweet smells of burning pine and roasting coconuts.

The commotion rising from the village center was too much, and soon the children were on their feet and out the doors. Despite that the occasion was normally an adult celebration, mothers were unable to pull their children back from the joy they shared as well. Peace had settled over Spira once again as Spring's full bloom reached the borders of Besaid Island. The festivities were kept to a minimum during the day for the children's sake, but liquor was broken out at sundown.

The villagers weren't heavy drinkers, but good wine and ale stored for this occasion every year was always welcomed and appreciated. Year long wine reminded them of their difficulties through the harsh winters, and those difficulties were swallowed in a single night.

The excitement lighting the air was contagious. Even the most sullen of elders soon found themselves caught up in the activities, singing, and contests as they attempted to sip delicately at their fine drinks. From the village's perspective, the night would pass without harm – anything said or done would be forgotten and stored away for quiet reminiscence.

A bubbling thrill entered Yuna's soul that night. Having turned seventeen a few months back, she was now seen as an adult in the elders' eyes, and therefore permitted to join the adult festivities. She saw it as a confusing time.

The normal activities and games that the children and young adults shared, running back and forth and yelling joyfully at the top of their lungs – now seemed so trivial and juvenile. Yuna found herself politely rejecting offers of tarts, cookies, and sweetened fruit as her mind wondered to the steaming meal she would share that night amongst the finest pickings of ale and wine.

Striding about the rambunctious and excited village, the young woman couldn't share in the daily festivities without feeling as if she was already reducing her new role. The children saw her in a new light, but the adults continued to eye her skeptically and very few gave her regard. She maintained the same respect she had before as a summoner in training.

_None of that matters tonight_, Yuna reminded herself as she raised her gaze to the light blue, white-blotched sky beyond the treetops. The sun's rays danced across the few pieces of metal displayed atop homes and the stone temple resting promisingly in the back of the village. There – one day soon – would rest her final trial, and Yuna would be given the solemn oath to protect the people of Spira from becoming monstrous fiends. Few had the talent and inner peace and dedication, to not only survive the trials, but to enact the rituals with prestige. Yuna had devoted the last ten years – since the tragic death of her father – to gaining the experience and wisdom required by Spira and the Maesters to take on such an important role.

_I should be more nervous_, Yuna realized as she stood there gazing thoughtfully at the temple and its dark doorway. Distantly she could hear the subtle call of the Hymn – a song sung mournfully by the Fayth who lent their power to summoners who sought it. It was both foreboding and reassuring – reminding Yuna of her father's proud role, and of his dreaded fate. However, the world had changed in the last ten years, and her own fate would not match Braska's.

With a small smile that lit the distinguishing rosy hue of her face, the summoner-to-be gave a respectful bow to the Besaid Temple – praying secretly for the Fayth resting within – before turning and deciding on sweeter, more exhilarating thoughts of that night. Yuna never would have expected the course of actions that would ultimately lead to the biggest changes in her life and how she saw it.

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* * *

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Two neighboring nations with different outlooks on life and choice of routine cannot exist without conflict. With significant change and difference, there comes fear and dread – the fear that one's own lifestyle is somehow influenced, challenged, or endangered by another's.

This same fear and way of due process has resulted in wars, conflicts, prejudice, and discrimination. As a result, the world had ultimately split into two existences – two fields and planes of life and reality that paralleled, but didn't directly coincide. With each their own individual threats and outlooks on life and the limits to it.

Ivalice felt imposed by the accumulating growth of Sky Pirates. As time went on, and Ivalice began to take action to cleanse the world of these outlaws, they began spreading further, and now Spira had come to find itself in a difficult situation.

On the same day as Besaid's Spring celebration – on wrinkled, hobbled feet – the Grand Maester Yo Mika strode briskly down the halls of Bevelle's central building. As he stepped with a spin on his left heel around a corner, two double large doors decorated luxuriously in golden embroidery over the purple stone, came into view.

Beyond them lay the duties his life's sole focus required – the responsibilities of his decisions, the outcomes they would emit, and Spira's perspective of the world and their actions. Without the Maesters to guide them through the will of Yu Yevon, the people of Spira were doomed to be lost in the tempting luxuries Ivalice flaunted.

"Promise Land," Maester Mika spat with a twist of his lips. The words were sores to his mouth. Rubbing his tongue against them only made him that much more aware. However, just like sores, the words would vanish and be forgotten with time.

_Even if it has to be done by my own hand_, the man thought to himself. He noticed the way his escort was watching him wearily, and at the harsh look Mika gave him, the kid stepped quickly to the door.

Without a word, the youth stood to one side patiently – waiting for his master to pause so he could open them and announce Mika's arrival. However, the Maester didn't pause in his heated, purposeful stride. In mere moments, he had reached the purple-hued stone doors, and was swinging them open with more force imaginable for his size and age.

The muffled chatter from the room ceased immediately as all eyes struck the intruder sharply. However, at the sight of the proud-faced man, the looks were softened, and the well-dressed individuals inside bowed their heads and offered their leader a prayer of apology. Perhaps if his mood hadn't been so sullied with thoughts concerning Ivalice, or the meeting's source of information, Mika would have accepted the apologies gracefully and swept the other Maesters' fears away.

However, there were pressing matters at hand. The Maester continued to give the other three individuals hard glances until at last Maester Kelk Ronso stepped forward with arms bound respectfully behind him. The sure and demeanor air surrounding the colossal creature soothed the Grand Maester's ill temper until Mika was able to look upon the remaining two members with a calm serenity.

The plump, balding man sitting behind the crescent table returned to busily nibbling a steamed piece of meat while plates lay empty and licked-clean before him. The saliva still lingering on the good china shimmered in the soft, overhead torch lights. The hunched Guado – with his long face turned to large, long fingers picking delicately at an embroidered tapestry displayed before him – gave no notion that anything had changed. His relentlessly calm exterior remained a secret fascination to Mika, and the man vowed to someday explore the Guados' history more thoroughly.

Clearing his throat at the inclining sound Kelk gave, Mika raised his gaze into the watchful, unblinking yellow eyes. To stare into a Ronso's soul was like staring into a mask of strength and sure death. A shiver ran through the man until the Grand Maester was at last, forced to gaze towards Jyscal Guado and Wen Kinoc.

Jyscal remained fixated on the tapestry beautifully sewn in delicate and carefully dyed fabrics. The image before him had been made with an artist's perspective of Ivalice. Something inside Mika struck a nerve and whipping out a gnarled hand, he snatched the soft item from the table. With a look of disgust, he surveyed the large towers and obvious use of Machina that roamed the air freely. The sight of it sent another rivet of anger and loathing through the old man, and he threw it back towards the Guado Maester.

There was an almost hurt expression on Jyscal's face that vaguely intrigued the Grand Maester, but it was gone in a moment. Much like the Ronso, the Guado's feelings remained quietly to themselves unless they were enraged. The Ronso however, were much more independent and defensive. It was wise to have both species as Maesters, but there was talk from the people and factions of including races from Ivalice to help strengthen the fragile alliance between the two ends of the world.

Pushing these thoughts to the forefront of his mind, Mika gestured for Kelk to take his seat. The Ronso however, remained respectfully standing without carefully rejecting his superior's offer. The Ronso were a quiet, well-kept race that initially didn't interact with humans or the Guado. Kelk had been raised in Bevelle at a young age as his curiosity about humans drove him from the Ronso's proud Mt. Gagazet. For years, Mika and Kelk had studied side by side until the day they were both raised as Maesters – and Mika, finally _to _Grand Maester. Ever since the role had been given to him and not Kelk, the Ronso had appeared more distant and cut-off. It was almost as if he had lost his need to be a Maester any longer.

There wasn't time for this drama however, and with stifled, discourteous words lodged in his throat, the Grand Maester stepped forward – forcing Kelk back a step with an air of owed respect.

In a craggy, faltering voice, Mika demanded softly, "What news of Ivalice presses us?"

With an inquiring clearing of his throat, Wen Kinoc drew three pairs of disapproving eyes to him. Of all the Maesters, Kinoc remained the least respected and understood. It was common knowledge that he would soon be replaced – common knowledge to everyone _but _him it seemed. Until then, Kinoc still had a forceful say in the matters at hand concerning Spira.

In a self-taught, informative tone, the plump man stated blatantly, "Over the past several days, reports of flying Machina have been served." At the silence that followed, the man made an inquiring sound as he refused to speak further.

Lips straining with a hidden scowl of disgust, Mika prompted in a forced, calm voice, "The Al Bhed?"

Turning to the Grand Maester now with a perceptive gaze, Kelk replied with careful softness, "Even the Al Bhed don't hold this technology."

"Ivalice," Jyscal spoke up, voice wavering. His long, shaky fingers brushed the fabric of the hand-woven tapestry before him. Mika's eyes flickered to the ships patrolling the skies around the steep towers, and new thoughts began to form.

Without meeting the gaze of his fellow chairmen, the Grand Maester prompted firmly, "And what of its whereabouts?"

"Unstated," Kinoc replied promptly, shifting his large mass in the furnished, wooden chair. The seat cushion beneath him released a long, stream of air that whined obnoxiously. Kelk offered the plump Maester a disapproving look shining in his eyes, but Kinoc's gaze was fixated on his superior's thoughtful expression. After another minute of silence, he inquired, "Grand Maester?"

As if struck sharply, Mika raised his eyes to focus hard on the man. Despite a deep inner urge, Kinoc remained impassive towards the superior's accusing stare. Gathering himself, the Grand Maester rested his tired limbs into a chair on the other side of the table. With a sigh, he let his legs drop like slain Flan.

Hands folded together in the long sleeves of his ceremonial robe, Mika was silent for a few minutes longer before taking in each Maester individually before finally letting his eyes settle on an invisible spot in the room between the three of them. In a strong, unwavering voice, he commanded firmly, "Find me that ship."

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* * *

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The steam rising off the small beach hidden by tall, towering cliffs curled into the sky like fingers groping at unreachable darkness. The harsh whirring of engines softened until the propellers of the transport ship had slowed to a stop, and silence filled the twilight. The drifting sounds of crickets and rustling leaves left a tranquility resting over the cove. The cliff mass stretched around a corner out of view to display the delicate ripples of the vast ocean. Early moonlight shone on the water like shed glitter – displaying a light, late-night blue patch against the dark waves.

From where he stood at the sandbar's edge – waves lapping gently against the pointed toes of his knee-high boots – Balthier peered longingly towards the sky. Just minutes on the land, and he already missed the calming feeling of wind rushing past, and the light swaying of the ship as he walked its halls. The Strahl had been perched beside the cliffs to the far side for protection and to remain out of view. Only someone with a ship coming around a sharp corner and into a small passage would sight it.

The light cranking of the ramp dropping to the ground once more didn't disturb the pirate's wandering thoughts. Stepping out, Fran ducked her head to peer at the back of her companion with a light grimace. With long fingers clutching the small craft's side, the Viera felt distant once again from the Sky Pirate. Years of traveling and companionship hadn't changed Balthier's attitude towards her much, and Fran grew to miss his rare, open conversations the longer time went on between them.

In her high-heel sandals, Fran stepped lightly down the ramp. The sand felt soft as her toes sunk repeatedly into the swaying mass. The distinct smell of salt was a calming scent, and reminded the Viera why she had become a Sky Pirate in the first place. As a Sky Pirate, she escaped the confining culture and traditions of her people. For once, Fran had had the world laid out before her, with choices she determined and consequences she could predict and control. Balthier had offered her the world, and that's _just _what he had given her.

_There's still something more_, Fran thought with a yielding defiance as her heart fluttered. A soft wind brushed back the wavy ruffles of Balthier's chestnut locks, and Fran felt her curls tickle her high cheekbones. For that moment, it felt like the pair shared the same thoughts.

As the wind died down though, Balthier turned away from the ocean, saying in a light, but unwavering voice, "Come Fran. Time to inspect this small mound of overgrown pride."

At this, the Viera gave a small, genuine smile. The remote sounds of music drifted their way towards them, and smoke curled distantly over the pine and coconut treetops. A village's joyous celebration had attracted their attention as they flew unseen overhead. The people gathered in the small hump of self-made structures appeared primitive. Despite Ivalice's Interference Doctrine, the pair felt drawn to the small village and the festivities.

Curling in his gut, Balthier felt a need to cause some ruckus. It ran deep in Sky Pirates' blood, and remained sheltered until either it exploded or the outlaw was forced to take action. The need of rebellion – to stir a minor ruckus or chaos – had driven them to land the Strahl and take a small ship around the bend to rest in the side cove. There the craft would lay unseen from the shore's view.

Balthier couldn't resist the urge pawing at him like a needy kitten, and now with a knowing smirk, turned to his partner, saying in a devilish tone, "Shall we then?"

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**Inspired Music: **"Song of Memory" - _Final Fantasy IX OST_


	4. CHPT 3: A SOLDIER's Disrespect

**CHAPTER THREE**

**A SOLDIER'S Disrespect **

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* * *

**- **

**RAGE **is a deep inner and misunderstood necessity – an often respected but feared feeling of course regret or disregard for lack of control. For the Ronso resting on Mt. Gagazet, it was a prime source of strength and need within them for survival. Without the Ronso to stand guard before the often sought, legendary entrance of Zanarkand, freedom would be granted for any of those daring to pass over the colossal land mass – presuming the daring adventurer could make it through the bitter cold of mounting snow, and past the growing ranks of deadly fiends.

Nonetheless, guarding the Forbidden City remained a deep, respected duty of the cat-like, towering race. Their thick, night-blue fur kept them warm and safe from the minor threats of fiends. Their handiness with weapons drove curious travelers away. From where the Ronso rested, the shift in seasons affecting the rest of the world – Besaid especially – went unnoticed here. The proud race prowling the mountain trails treated every day the same. Despite the snow matted in their thick fur, cold didn't touch their skin and the large muscles and strong bones beyond.

The Ronso's once respected stanza had been dramatically ruined as intruders were reported to be passing over the borders of Mt. Gagazet. Whether or not the rumors of the Paradise of Lights were true, a deep unsettlement had flowed through the people of Spira, whom were catching whim of this disturbing news. The Ronso were the strongest race in Spira, and if the rebel scum from Ivalice could so easily infiltrate their world, danger was a terrifying reality to them all.

The suppressed rumors of Zanarkand rose up once again, and the questioning of the city's existence started. Despite the Maesters' distinct claims that the legendary place didn't subsist and was just the Sky Pirates' foolish dream, news reports and stories spread from Luca over the Mainland and to the neighboring islands.

Despite the rumors offered, there was no evidence – outside a couple of reported sightings recently – proving there were intruders from Ivalice. The merchant ships that dared the seas to do business in the foreign world spoke quietly in awe of the technology and amazing sights spread over the lands. However, stories differed so greatly that it became hard to believe anything said about the opposing nation. A rumor had even started up that Ivalice wasn't very evolved at all, and was overly exaggerated. Another claimed that the world didn't even exist, and that it was only ocean that stretched onwards until it looped around to the other side of Spira.

A special choice of soldiers were being trained to act as mediators between the people and the clerics residing in the temples and Bevelle. Despite their goal to squash the uprising of rumors, the group was treated with thorough disgust as they flaunted their recent gain in superiority – often snatching various goods off stands in marketplaces, or pushing their ways through crowds and even exacting punishment upon disobedient citizens.

This disrespectful and disdained mistreatment of power brought a bad name down upon the rest of the members of SOLDIER. A squad recently and quickly dispatched to the Mi'ihen Highroad resting just outside of Luca's back parkway, scouted the mismatched roads of yellow, brown, and green with little hope of discovery. The disturbance of fiends had been quickly suppressed, and the early Spring crossings had begun.

It should have been a satisfying mission, but something felt discreet and missing in the activity. For ten years now, the members of the SOLDIER squad had been trained to act as the Maesters' forceful hand. The chairmen's ways were persecuted through faithfully following individuals to ensure peace through necessary force without the holy men having to stain their reputation directly.

_A dishonorable method…_

A man drabbed in the purple, gold-lined uniform marking him a SOLDIER, stood on the road's south trail overlooking the cavern resting as an open expanse of baby grass. The tall trees lining the cliffs and edges scent a soft, damp woodland smell with the light wind passing the open distance from the ocean. Shifting his piercing, green-blue gaze to the trench below, the youth spotted a fellow squad member crouching before something unseen with her back to him.

Waiting patiently, the youth was rewarded with an anxious look from the fellow SOLDIER as she gestured him down. Stepping quickly to the cliff edges descending into the trench, he leapt down with no heed for the bushes' branches catching at his thick clothing and tall boots. Landing firmly on the still half-frozen ground, the curious youth jogged his way towards his companion.

The girl – curled brown hair bouncing as she gazed back at him – shifted where she was hunched on her ankles to reveal her finding. Crouching down with a quickly hidden look of awe, the youth ran his fingers lightly over the old imprints of wide, almost duck-like feet. From the quick scan in either direction of the almost invisible trail, it was easy to tell the moving was shuffling and slow with close steps.

Mais met her companion's eyes knowingly, but as she opened her mouth to state the same thing they were both thinking, a voice drifted towards them firmly: "Squall!"

A sway of brunette locks hid the man's wondering look as he glanced back over his shoulder towards the highroad. A familiar figure stood pressed strangely against the half-dead scenery, waving his arms in the fashion of a distress signal. The gold embroidery of the man's uniform shown vividly in the waning sun's fiery glow. Red streaks streamed across the sky towards him like blood-trails, and Squall's mind flashed to the battle against the fiends that took place earlier. There was a hefty difference between scheduled training and real combat. Despite his inner need to back away, Squall's ten years of discipline had forbidden it, and he stood his ground just as well as the others.

However, Mais had observed his quiet exterior and unusual paleness afterwards as the local Summoner sent the fiends on their way to the Farplane. Though the girl remained quiet about her companion's clear uneasiness, it was a growing wonder in the back of her mind. Would Squall be able to suppress the urge the next time? Would he back away when they needed him most?

In truth, Mais sincerely hoped not. Although she secretly didn't wish this lifestyle upon the youth – having begun to almost regret it herself at times – she understand that Squall was obligated to his duties. He had spent most of his life training for this, and now that his seventeenth birthday had come and gone – and Winter had been driven back by the relieved sight of new budding – she wondered if he wasn't meant for something better.

However, Mais suppressed these thoughts quickly as Squall rose to his feet and stepped carefully around the vague trail. To the untrained eye, the cold ground remained the same great lumps of dirt as in any other area. To the SOLDIERs' enhanced vision and senses though, there were glimpses of a rare and organized but slow, identified race.

Kaye stood with thin face expressionless as he stepped back to allow his companions to step up on the highroad. Drawing level with the shorter man, Squall understood the serious look in Kaye's eyes long before he spoke.

With a firm and unwavering voice, the youth reported, "We've caught strange sightings of unidentifiable prints."

Thinking back to the trail lying below them, Squall gave a slow nod of understanding. With the evitable age of the footprints, it was safe to assume the unknown race was heavy set with large, strong feet to leave such an impression in the land. Mais gazed up from where she dusted the front of her uniform, and met Squall's eyes briefly before turning curiously to Kaye.

In a soft tone, she prompted with an incline of her head, "Were they almost web-like?"

Shaking his head slowly, the man just gestured them along as he strode down the pathway and over the bridge serving as an archway to either side of the cavern. The walk was smooth and undisturbed. The beginning chirps of crickets penetrated the squad's enhanced senses, but it soon became a natural sound and quickly disregarded. Mais however, smiled lightly at the joyous noise. It was a sign that peace had fallen over the area, and therefore their walk towards Kaye's sighting would be undisturbed.

Having fallen into thoughts of the encounter once again, Squall stared straight ahead. He would have been intrigued by the infamous highroad perhaps, if he didn't feel so distracted and offset from his fellow elite members. Somehow, he had thought that being a SOLDIER would be so much easier – take and carry out orders. A simple life, but filled with excitement, paid expanses, respect, and adventuring.

It was his first mission, and Squall's ambition had died as the fiends fell to the ground before him in fading explosions of balls of light. The corpses of men and women on the highroad hit a strong nerve in the man, making him uneasy. The elite members were taught that casualties _were _going to happen. Seeing it happen before him was much different then hearing about it and pretending that the SOLDIERs around him were victims as they lay sprawled across the training ground quietly. Seeing the _real _victims today made Squall realize how inaccurate his comrades' positions had been. They hadn't been missing limbs or throats. There'd been no spilled blood, fear-stricken faces, or sightless eyes.

What had his squad thought when they looked into those villagers' faces? Had they felt the same disgust curling in their stomach? Any remorse at that?

Realizing that they had come to a halt, Squall turned towards his companions – clearing his mind of these troubling and intruding thoughts. Kaye was looking to him expectantly. Mais wore a worried expression, and opened her mouth silently for a moment before closing it with a slow shake of her head. Without a word, she turned and strode to where the final two members of their group were spread out, studying the borders of several prints.

The sight of them drove all other worries from the youth's mind, and with a stern gaze, Squall strode purposely towards the two figures crouched with fingertips lightly brushing the ground. Pausing beside the edge of the wide, faint trail, Squall squinted down at the overlapping imprints. It was difficult to tell if they were of the same shape as the ones Mais discovered because of the number of times they'd been imprinted here.

Raising his gaze to follow their fading trail, Squall saw them head through the great stone gates and to the roads and mysterious world beyond. Who were they? What had caused such a large group to head north? No reports of the trail had been given to Bevelle until three days earlier. Those passing through the highroad could barely glimpse the footprints, and those who did must have discarded them as fiend or possibly Chocobo tracks. The Maesters knew better.

_That's why they sent us here_, Squall grimaced as he glanced back towards where the trail conspired from the rambles of old bushes and towering trees. _To confirm their worries and disregard them – to tell the people what they want to hear._

What was that though? What was it that the people of Spira were expecting from Bevelle? From the Maesters? From him? Would the chairmen ask SOLDIER to lie to the people to comfort them and put an end to the string of rumors surrounding Spira and Ivalice?

"Squall." The quiet prompt almost went unheeded until the youth's mind registered the commanding voice.

Turning around, he saw Mais standing some ten feet away watching him with a quiet, composed expression. However, she wasn't the holder of the voice, and Squall directed his attention to the shorter woman standing before him. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a small, let loose bun. The strict, familiar face offered no comfort or worry as she continued to wait for his reaction.

Knowing he should have given a salute to his superior officer, Squall gave a half shrug, inquiring, "What is it, Professor?"

The color in Quistis Trepe's face withdrew at this statement, and she pursed her lips with a distinctive glare. When Squall didn't correct the former title, she instead disregarded it. Crossing her arms and resting her hands at either elbow, she gave her inferior a contempt look, stating in a firm, no-nonsense tone, "Mais mentioned that similar prints were found further down the road. What conclusion do you draw from this?"

_What does she want from me_? Squall wondered skeptically. Trepe had already received the news from Mais – why did she need _his_ input?

With a sigh, Squall crossed his arms over his chest as well, saying tiredly with clear irritation, "I don't know. These aren't as distinct." When Quistis continued to watch him with an expectant look, Squall adverted his gaze. Staring vaguely at a part of the ground with a half made footprint separate from the others, he added more formerly, "It's possible they're the same, but it doesn't look like fiend steps. Too organized and slow – with a direct course." When Quistis only nodded in agreement with this, he turned his gaze back to her, saying, "You already know all this – why do you want to know what _I _think? What we tell the Maesters is what really matters anyways – not who does it."

Considering this information, the lead SOLDIER just gave another slow nod before gesturing towards him, saying instructively, "Understanding my squad's full extent on the situation lets me know how well the mission is progressing."

"So you can throw one of us away if we don't add up to your standards?"

The quiet talk between the remaining members of the squad, stilled as three pair of eyes landed squarely on them. A solemn look passed over Quistis' face as her brow narrowed warningly. Without a word, she turned on heel and headed towards the rest of the squad. Seeing the powerful walk in her stride, the three members stepped quickly aside to let her through – saluting as she passed. Quistis paid them no mind, and stood leaning heavily on one foot with arms still crossed – her back to them.

Mais exchanged nervous looks with Jin before he and Kaye split in either direction to scout the area more thoroughly. Now the girl stood facing Squall alone. The vacant, uncaring expression on his face revealed his lack of respect for their squad leader. Mais knew that Squall joined those who believed that Quistis was only made a squad leader because of her blood relation with Grand Maester Yo Mika. It was true that the proud woman wasn't much of a fighter, but she had understanding and strategy to back her. Mais wasn't sure what to make of that situation, but she knew that for a squad to work efficiently, all members had to work together.

Drawing level with the lone man now, Mais gazed into his handsome features – trying to find the cold layout of life hidden in his orbs. They remained as empty as the basis of rumors that had led to the creation of SOLDIER. In a quiet tone, the girl prompted carefully, "Do you have respect for _anything_? Any_one_?" When Squall gave no reply, but continued to look at her, Mais thought that he may actually give a plausible answer. When the man turned his gaze away instead, she stepped back with a shake of her head. In mid-step, she glanced back at him, saying in a quiet, contempt voice, "Maybe you don't belong here after all…"

Night brought refreshing promises of quiet and the end of doubt and questioning – at least for a while. Cradled in the soft folds of the woolen blankets in the small bed pressed against one wall at the Travel Agency, Squall lay awake – staring up at the still shadows on the ceiling. It felt like they were lingering there, waiting to leap once he closed his eyes for sleep. The images of the day's events passed before his mind repeatedly until slumber became a faint dream itself.

_'Do you have respect?'_

_Just another word – for suppressing your control and willpower to another_.

_'Maybe you don't belong here.'_

_Could have told anyone that…_

_'You don't belong here.'_

The last partial taking of Mais' last words to him today struck Squall rigid. His heart beat hard against his chest, and a lump formed in his throat. The thought wasn't unreal, but a frightening reminder that maybe his life's ambition meant nothing in the end. Without SOLDIER, what was he? What was his purpose?

_I don't have one_, Squall assured himself. _This_is _my purpose…to take orders and _keep _order. That's all_.

Somehow, these suppressed, repeated words comforted him. Maybe it was because it'd been drilled into his mind every hour of every waking day under training. Being a SOLDIER meant being absolute in the one sole focus the elite group had been formed with. To do otherwise would be great disrespect to the Maesters, and Yu Yevon. It meant being shunned and treated as an infection amongst Spira's people.

For a moment, Squall began to truly wonder if Ivalice existed. What was it like there? Did the nation really lose control of power and the use of Machina? Were the rumors of wars and rivets of waves sent across the ocean really come from there? Paintings and tapestries could be seen littering walls, homes, and marketplaces; displaying images of the Promised Land. Despite differences in each with the artist's personal view, there were always distinct similarities that perked Squall's interest.

A light snort from across the space caught the youth's attention, and with arms folded on the pillow behind his head, he turned his gaze towards the dark masses of the other two men lying in the room. Kaye was turning in his sleep, blankets half spilling onto the floor. Quistis and Mais lay in the next room. No peep had come from them, and the Travel Agency resting halfway alongside the Mi'ihen Highroad remained quiet and peaceful. For a while, Squall allowed himself to be lost in the reassurance the decorative structure provided. At least at night, there was no one to pass judgment on him and his thoughts remained his own. Here, his training didn't apply.

Feeling his eyelids begin to droop heavily, Squall blinked largely to expand his pupils. He wasn't quite ready to give up this freedom to disturbing visions just yet. Returning his gaze to the depths of the low hanging ceiling, the SOLDIER let his dreams of free will live just a little longer.

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**Inspired Music: ** "Shooting Star" - _Disney's Hercules OST_


	5. CHPT 4: Merry Meet and Merry Part

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Merry Meet and Merry Part **

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**A **growing need to be accepted in hopes of salvation lingers deep in instinct throughout a lifetime. Doubt fills both the weak and strong minds – bringing down even the highest and purest hopes. Without doubt however, there can't be chances for courage to shine through, and for motivation to take a factor in dreams and ambitions. Sometimes, the smallest of blessings can be a dream – far-off and not quite real or within grasp.

_Sunshine has become one of mine…_

From the depths of the small, square cell laid in the resting, bottom quarters of the dungeons, a curled form sat rocking back and forth. Within the reaches of the haggard youth's mind relived the old memories of rare sunshine, illumining starlight, and the soft touch of a woman's loving hand.

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Night brought promise of good times and drifting merriment that couldn't be ignored. Besaid Village had called all its watchers and scouts back to enjoy the furtive night's activities. The elders directed their concentration to the attention-seeking children who ignored their mothers' constant calls to return to bed. Music played by flute and strummed on harps drifted into the air – casting a comforting, serene feel over the village and those dwelling there.

The light talk and laughter was an even merrier sound, and it raised a calm awareness in Balthier as he shuffled quietly through the bushes on the outskirts of the village. Fran rested on the other side – having come around from the back on the Sky Pirate's orders. Despite the Viera's protests on the intrusion, Balthier felt a need to observe this solitary village residing in the normally clumped cities of Spira.

From the small mechanical communicator at his hip, Fran's hushed whisper crackled: "Balthier, let us leave these humes to their peace."

With a knowing smirk, the youth flipped the switch of the communicator, cutting off the wise Viera's advise. Fran grimaced lightly and wrinkled her nose as she pressed the communicator to the clip at her side and returned her gaze to the feasting humes. Their content made the Viera realize how different she really was from them. Being amongst humes for fifty years had stripped Fran from the communication of wildlife – and though she deeply missed it – she resolved herself from returning. She had turned her back on Green Wood and her kin, and therefore, would not return now.

Fran sunk back quickly and quietly into the long grass as a form paused nearby. The warm fiery light cast by the large bonfire in the middle of the village illumined a youthful, female's hume features. Her expression didn't match the same joy plastered on even the crinkled, elderly faces. A hesitance surrounded the young woman, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to be there.

Observing the dark hair and bright eyes, Fran took in every delicate, imperfect detail of the woman, thinking admissibly, _Is _this _what Balthier waits for?_

The Viera discarded these thoughts as she realized their foolishness, and let her long, stiffening limbs relax as the girl was called away. There were many things that Fran would do for her captain, but there was also a limit.

From where he crouched, Balthier braced himself momentarily before darting into the tall grass pressed against the other side of the stonewall surrounding the village. Sky Pirates were thoroughly warned about Spirans' dislike for their kind. Residing on such a small, secluded island, the villagers would surely recognize the pair as foreigners by their clothes, and question their arrival.

_The less known the better_, Balthier reminded himself.

"Lady Yuna!"

The loud, but shaky voice caught the Sky Pirate's attention sharply. He squinted his eyes towards the bonfire, and watched as a solitary woman strode her way on careful-stepping, delicate feet towards the hunched elder turned towards her. The girl's serene expression perked Balthier's interest, and he considered the woman for a moment. His eyes strayed from the people to the temple beyond. Those passing before it paused and bowed in the manner of a prayer and expression of respect.

From what little Balthier knew of Spira, he understood that most Spirans were dedicated to the preaching of Yu Yevon. Their beliefs supposedly had freed them from Sin's control ten years past. The Maesters claimed that Sin would return to claim the wrongdoers who abused the power of 'Machina'. This seemed to discourage the Yevonites from uprising and taking control of their land and their religion choices.

_Caught forever in the spindly spider's web of invisible truths._

Pulling the communicator from his belt, Balthier turned it on with a light _click_. Raising it to his mouth as he crouched lower – eyes still locked on the fiery glistening stonewalls of the mysterious temple – he whispered into it, "No doubt these good merriers have more suitable wear. What do you say to a change of wardrobe?"

There was a hesitant pause before Fran's light voice came back warningly, "Watch yourself, Balthier. In such a small village, they would surely recognize you as an outsider. These humes speak in strange tongue."

Considering this, the Pirate held the button, saying quietly, "Well noted, Fran. Very well, then we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Like true thieves of the delightful fairy tales."

The crackly reply came back hesitantly: "Don't those tavern stories often end with capture?"

Giving a rewarding smile with a light chuckle, Balthier shifted back into the tall grass and shadows of the stonewalls' adjoining corner as a dog sniffed the air nearby, stating inquiringly, "Come now, tavern tales are nothing more but exaggerated truths, Fran. Let the blind-sighted rest easy with their diluted endings."

As the Viera began again, Balthier cut her off sharply as the dog drew closer. Slinking behind a dwelling structure, the pirate lost sight of the bonfire, and his vision darkened considerably. A soft rustle of dirt beneath his boots alerted the pirate to his situation. The dog's salute appeared from around the dwelling's side. Its tail swung at the sight of him and after a moment it trotted over to begin licking at his face.

Falling back from his hunches, Balthier tried to suppress the friendly animal's bombard of welcomes, while remaining quiet. The dog gave a sharp bark; tail still wagging with tongue out panting in the humid night air. The muffled voices continued on without notice, and Balthier felt relieved at this. However, he needed to get this mutt away from before a child came searching for their missing companion.

A rustle from nearby caught the dog's attention, and it raise its shaggy head with ears perked as the crunching continued – drawing a bit further away. A vague scent caught its attention, and the dog was bounding away before Balthier could move out of the animal's way. The pirate fell back against the hard dirt with a grunt. The soft tickle of the long grass against his face irritated the man thoroughly, and Balthier pushed himself up on his elbows once the dog's scampering movements melded with the night's festivities.

As a thought arose in his mind, Balthier straightened, and turned on the communicator. Holding the button to still the static sound emitting from it, he sleeked his way to the dwelling's side to peer towards the bonfire. He had lost his advantage of ranged sight, and now could only catch glimpses of a small section of the village. Raising the communicator to his mouth, he dared in a hush voice, "Fran?"

Loosening his hold on the button, Balthier waited expectantly, and a minute later, the Viera's voice appeared in a barely audible whisper, "You owe me, Pirate. You remain as useless on land as in air."

With a knowing smirk, Balthier replied as he relaxed a little, "And you owe me a new shirt."

A minute passed before Fran's voice came back; more loudly now, "What's your plan this time, Mischievous One?"

"I prefer the term, 'curious'." Pausing in thought, Balthier slunk through the space of two dwellings to rest his back against the second one's wide girth. Raising the communicator to his mouth again, the pirate continued more confidently, "There rests a temple. I'm sure these good Yevonmites wouldn't mind us having our pickings. They are, after all, noteworthy of their compassion and giving."

With a moment's pause, Fran corrected from where she crouched near the temple's raised platform, "They remain faithful Yevo_nites_." Giving serious thought to what her captain was proposing, the Viera continued squarely, "I will follow you wherever you go – whether it be land or air."

In a mocking voice, the pirate noted, "Fran…I'm touched." With a small smirk, he commanded, "You know what to do. Let's scatter a little chaos into this boring occasion."

There was a distinctive snap from the device as Fran tuned out, and re-clipping his own communicator, Balthier crept quietly towards the last dwelling that sat at an angle. At the end of it rested an open slope to the temple. He would have to move quickly to make his way up and into the shadows without notice. That was presuming no one was residing within it either. Careful watching showed no one entering or departing from the shrine, but Balthier's goal was to slip in and out, with something that would sell well in Ivalice. They would already be departing by the time the villagers noticed the swift thievery.

Assurance in his own plan kept Balthier confident as he sneaked his head out from the far side of the last dwelling. His movement was smooth and quiet as he awaited the distraction – faith in his partner never wavering.

Creeping on her belly in the long grass as close as she dared towards the bonfire, Fran scanned the area thoroughly with sharp eyes. Her eyesight at night was just as good as during the day. A quick flash of green light on a communicator from the far dwelling nearest the temple alerted her to Balthier's location. He was ready.

Long nails scathing at the packed earth, Fran dug a small hole into the ground as she turned her hand to reveal a large clump of dirt and sand. Slipping her free hand into the small pouch beside her communicator, she pulled a small vial out in between delicate fingers. Popping the top off slowly, Fran let the liquid pour over the clump of earth as a faint, sweet smell of cinnamon perfume filled the air around her. Bracing herself, the Viera hesitated only momentarily to judge the distance, before tossing the clump into the air.

The dirt landed square in the fire – feeding the flames. A large spout went up with a loud cackle, causing all heads to turn at the sudden change. A few cries went up as embers spread out over the area – a few catching flame. Villagers moved quickly to try to put out the stray fires.

Recognizing the distraction immediately, Balthier broke cover and darted low to the ground, up the slope towards the large, stone structure. Flipping back away from the scene, Fran scaled a dwelling's wall and took perch on hands and knees on the roof. Her salute against the sky drew more eyes towards her, and mixed cries and gasps joined the chaos. Villagers began to gather closer as claims of fiend attacks shuffled from one mouth to the next. Some men picked up rocks, and others ran into their homes. Women gathered their children into their arms or dragged them away from the unfamiliar, dark form.

Fran didn't stay still for long. She was already moving across the roofs when Balthier reached the temple's open entrance. He paused with back pressed to a pillar to watch her form leaping from one roof to the next to distract the villagers. With a small, knowing smirk, Balthier stepped quietly into the warm glow of the temple.

Inside, large handcrafted statues loomed and each set of eyes seemed to snap to the intruder. Thinking it was like being on trial before the jury, Balthier quickly scanned the small, circular space and was relieved to find it empty. Parting from the shadows, the youth stepped quietly into the room – his boots beating softly on the stone floor. They were stilled as he reached the extravagantly red and gold woven carpet displayed before a long staircase leading to a sealed door. A closed door stood in the back on either side of the stairwell.

A dim, resonating hum echoed through the walls, and Balthier searched the temple quickly for the source. When no conclusion came, he supposed it some sort of magik. Torches blazed from pedestals to illumine the room in a fiery glow, but besides the statues resting in raising rows, there appeared to be nothing of interest.

Feeling thoroughly disappointed, Balthier turned his gaze towards the door lying like a beacon above him. Pausing at the staircase for a moment, the man considered the possibility of someone lying beyond it. Fran wouldn't be able to distract the villagers for much longer, and would have to withdraw into the surrounding woods to avoid the risk of harm. Laying a foot on the first stone step, Balthier turned back as he was alerted to a scuffling from outside. When it dimmed, he calmed a little, and gazed back at his solitary black boot resting on the structure.

Was he going to really steal from people who lived alone on an island? From villagers who clearly made their own homes and clothes with their hands? Who paid prayer and worship to statues?

Balthier's conscience was pulling at these thoughts when the soft creak of an opening door caught his attention. The youth raised his gaze sharply to the softening sound. Dim shadows stretched down the stairs towards him as soft footsteps drew closer.

The serene, lovely face of the woman an elder had dubbed 'Lady Yuna' appeared in the open doorway. She paused with a look of alarm at the sight of the Sky Pirate – one eyes a clear blue, the other a shimmering green. The pair stood watching each other, and Balthier's every muscle tensed. He was caught – what did he do? Turn and run? The girl's clear surprise over her glowing features had a capturing appeal and Balthier's need to distance himself dimmed.

As Yuna opened her mouth, an alarming call resounded closely, "It's heading for the temple!"

Balthier turned sharply towards the open double doors. A moment later, pounding, anxious footsteps could be heard. Without another second's hesitance, Balthier was off the first step and darting towards the archway.

Blinking to awareness, Yuna called out, "Wait!"

Paying the girl no mind, Balthier peered out into the night's dim glow. Seeing the forms moving towards him, he cursed lightly before throwing himself out of the temple. Once safe from the doorway's restrictive movement, the pirate was rolling away over the patio and off the raised platform in mere seconds. Fran's salute against the moon from the temple's top was catching eyes. The spears that the village men threw towards her fell short. From where she was perched, the Viera caught sight of Balthier's swift moving form as he made his way towards the village's entrance.

Making sure he had made it to the stonewall break, Fran used the spire as leverage as she leapt from her perch towards the nearest dwelling. Feet scuffling the roof's edge, she darted towards the other end and leapt onto the ground. The mob turned now towards her, but the Viera was already through the open way of the stonewalls and into the safety of the woods beyond.

Emerging from the temple, Yuna watched the retreating forms with a solemn expression.

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The mysterious man's face burned into Yuna's mind the rest of the night. Despite the attempts to return to the normal festivities, the Besaid villagers were much more aware, and guards were posted and replaced every three hours. With her joyful mood spoiled, Yuna rejected all offers of wine or games respectively and retreated to a large dwelling to one side.

Little did she know that Balthier had hidden and made his plans just behind this structure. As she laid down on the soft fur and feather blankets, Yuna wished deeply that Lulu was there. Lulu however, stated she had business elsewhere, and Wakka had escorted her for safety reasons. Kimarhi remained scouting the island – deeply mourning his old ways this evening. The Ronso didn't enjoy the village's Spring Celebration, being unaccustomed still to the humans' strange ways. Her mind wandered again to the sudden and unexpected encounter in the temple.

Who was that man? His clothes were different, and made from a type of leather she hadn't seen before. He had seemed just as surprised as she was when their eyes locked. Why had he come here? _How _had he come here? It had to be by ship; that was for sure.

_Perhaps a forbidden Machina?_

A sudden excitement filled the young woman at the thought. Despite Yu Yevon's statements on Machina, Yuna found them thoroughly interesting. She would never go against the preaching, but she couldn't deny her need to understand the world and the past further. With a resigning sigh, she pushed herself from the bed and headed out of the small home.

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Adrenaline pumped into Balthier's legs – bringing him quickly forward through the woods and around the trees. His feet stepped swiftly around stones and raised tree roots – his hands thrusting back branches and foliage noisily. He didn't know if anyone was following him – he couldn't hear anything but his own haggard breathing. His mind kept playing the same scenario before his eyes again and again.

A sudden form fell before him, causing Balthier to come to a sudden halt. Loose leafs spun up, and the pirate captain relaxed as his sole crewmember straightened calmly before him. There was a light accusation in Fran's eyes as she prompted, "What _happened_?"

With a slow shake of his head as he caught his breath, Balthier admitted in a carrying voice, "There was nothing of value. I was spotted – much like a rat beneath a light."

"Much like your fairy tales," Fran noted with a light nod.

Balthier gave a smile at this jest, and inclining his head, bounced an index finger at his partner, saying warningly, "Now Fran, let us not lay blame here."

Small mouth falling open in a cute gesture, the Viera repeated exasperatedly, "_Blame_? _You_, Sir Pirate, did not have to ward off a mob of angry villagers."

Nodding at this, Balthier rested a fist to his side, saying promptly, "Well then, you understand my point." Stepping past the baffled Viera, he added flatly, "Come, no sense in being spotted once more."

Watching her partner's retreating back, Fran shook her head slowly and closed her mouth before following at a slower pace. There were times where she thought that Balthier truly _was_ a Pirate's Fool.

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The steady walk back towards the beach and the small watercraft awaiting them, remained a quiet trip as they drew closer to the towering ruins marking the road winding beneath it. Balthier paused here to gaze up at the distant walkways atop the towers, and pondered their ancient use. The buildings were evidently abandoned.

Fran stepped gracefully past and was heading down the dirt street with her gaze fixated on something unseen. Balthier wondered if she missed the caressing voice of the forests. He had suggested to the Viera once to return to the Green Wood to help restore her hopes, but Fran had rejected the offer in a subtle way.

With a slow shake of his head, Balthier stepped slowly after her. A sudden roar caught the man's attention, and he raised his gaze sharply as a dark form leapt from one tower-top to another. The vast creature landed on the ground hard before him – forcing Balthier back a few steps as his legs wobbled from the vibration. The fierce growling emitting from the heavily muscled cat-like monster made the hairs on the back of Balthier's neck stand on end.

Fran turned sharply at the pounding, and stared at the back of the massive creature in both awe and shock. She gazed past its shoulder towards her partner, but Balthier had regained his composure and now stood with his feet braced. He was prepped for a fight, but if a fight came, Fran feared the worst. This creature didn't have the same threatening sense as the fiends wondering the island did.

The cat-like creature raised his steady, golden eyes beneath a broken, white horn to lock gazes with his target. Balthier stood his ground – heartbeat accumulating, but while keeping a calm, outer appearance. His knowledge of Spira told him this was a Ronso – a strong, brutal fighter whose strength only matched his wisdom. Balthier's hand crept to the long pistol half hidden at his side.

With a sudden roar, the Ronso spreads its arms wide. Pushing back one foot, Balthier braced himself as the colossal creature pounded on hands and feet his way. Fran didn't hesitate before flipping herself into the air and landing on the attacker's shoulders. Wrapping her long, strong legs around the Ronso's neck, she dug her nails into his shoulders and pulled back. The Ronso was brought to a stammering slow-down, and went veering off-course.

Darting to one side, Balthier pulled loose the pistol in mid step – and squinting one eye – took aim and pulled the trigger. The Ronso slammed its hard, wide back against a nearby boulder – Fran dropping to the ground between the attacker's feet just in time to avoid collision. Balthier's bullet buried itself into the creature's shoulder. The Ronso's cry was like shattering glass – sharp and piercing.

Darting to her feet, Fran began running up the pathway. Sheathing his pistol, Balthier thrust a stick into the Ronso's shoulder with driving force to pin him against the boulder. The creature snapped his jaws, catching the swift moving man just above his collarbone. Grunting at the rip of cloth and piercing of his shoulder, Balthier ran after his partner

Up the mound and down towards the slope, the pirate tripped and was thrown off over the stonewall and onto the hard earth with a grunt. Pushing himself up on his hands, Balthier forced his shaking feet to carry him stumbling forward towards the beach. Fran was disappearing down the small sandbar towards the cove where the small craft waited.

A sudden, sharp crack made Balthier swerve quickly. From the coverage of nearby coconut trees, a familiar worried face emerged. He recognized the woman as the one who spotted him in the temple. Straightening some, the man remained alert.

Hearing the roar of the engines and watching the craft spin out onto the water's surface, the girl recovered and swallowed, asking in a small, shy voice, "Wh-Who are you?"

"No need to worry yourself with a pirate, lass."

The term brought memories of paintings of flying ships to mind, and stories surrounding the forbidden corresponding nation. In a surprised, raised voice, Yuna managed disbelievingly, "Y-You're from Ivalice!"

Despite worry growing in the back of her mind at the stories of rebels and their brutal ways, Yuna felt a flutter of excitement fill her as well. She had never seen Sky Pirates, and was amazed by the tales merchants coming to Besaid would often tell her. They claimed that Ivalice was a beautifully built world with fascinating devices and races like no other.

The carrier craft came to a slow halt at the sandbar and the ramp dropped to emit a human with appealing rabbit distinctions. The sight of the Viera thoroughly shocked Yuna, and the girl stepped back in both fear and caution. She hadn't expected her simple walk towards the beech to lead her to this – to see this man again.

Before either Balthier or Yuna could speak another word, Fran had ducked her head down. She eyed the stranger for a moment, before saying in a tight voice to her partner, "We have already caused much ruckus, Balthier."

The Sky Pirate gave this some consideration before nodding, saying in agreement, "I believe you right, Fran." Turning back to the village girl, Balthier jogged towards her. Leaning closer, he whispered in a soft, seductive accent, "Excuse me, Miss, but I am afraid I might need this."

With a swift movement, his hand undid the large bow tied around her waist. The obi was let loose and scarf wrapped around Yuna's neck loosened. She stood in shock as Balthier swiftly wrapped the golden and flower decorated fabric around his wounded shoulder – tying it in a knot tightly. Stepping away as Fran called to him again, the Sky Pirate half-turned. With a knowing smirk, he gave a curt nod and a wavy salute of farewell, before running towards the ramp. Fran was already heading up into the ship as he slowed and began boarding. Standing in the doorway, he smiled back at Yuna as the ramp began to close.

A moment later, the craft was turning around, and skimming out over the water and to the side. Yuna stood there confused as a light wind blew her hair back. Raising her gaze as the gale strengthened, she gasped in awe as a large ship drifted into the air to hover for a moment before taking off into the night sky – leaving a stream of smoke in its roaring wake.

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**Inspired Music:** "Strangers Like Me" - _Disney's Tarzan OST_


	6. CHPT 5: Archades' Intentions

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Archades's Intentions**

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**When**the reality of a situation finally hits home, it can take a harsh and tragic toll on the person. The supreme truths earlier buried beneath clouded hopes can break the will to a point of no recovery. The slow change that had come over the ailing Emperor Gramis Gana Solidor – fourth ruler of Archades – distilled the spirits of the people. His four sons crept to their father's aid, but as the years passed and no change occurred, Larsa became the only truly faithful heir. Perhaps that was why Gramis spent the entire twelve years of Larsa's young life, keeping him away from the troublesome world of war and politics.

Gramis would often say to his youngest son, "Don't let the world's strong-front fool you, Larsa. It – like I – is ailed by its own dreaded worries."

His father's illness had brought a deep dismay and a naïve adult mindset upon Larsa. For years, he acted as his father's voice – instructing soldiers and reporting to the Archadian Senate, despite Gramis' protests to his son taking on such responsibilities. As the years passed, Vayne was witness to his younger brother's childhood demise.

Caught up in the duties of general command and overlook of the kingdom and its health, Vayne Carudas Solidor grew weary of the repetitive tasks through the years. His patience for his father to pass the throne along to another began to grow thin. Still, the man held his tongue firmly and did what he could to take careful watch over his family. Even though the sight of Larsa and their father together sickened him at times, Vayne also drew comfort in knowing that Larsa had someone to turn to when he himself wasn't around.

The endlessly tiresome task of finding Nethicite to strengthen both forces and the people's demanding need of technology, took its toll on Vayne. The slumped weariness of his features could no longer be easily hid. Discourage was drawn from his haggard appearance as rumors of the deathly sickness' return strung worry over Ivalice. The nation had already been befallen once by the unpredictable illness, and dread of its return broke the recovering hopes of Archades's people.

Vayne was browsing through the reports of various articles on the subject when there came a prominent rap on his bedroom door. Raising his gaze from where his chin rested on his fist at the desk to one side of his room, Vayne considered the interruption for a moment. He could quite simply remain quiet and let the person walk away – leaving Vayne to his reading and what little peace he was offered before bed. However, with the recent expansion in the desperate search for Nethicite, he wasn't ready to let anything lay to wait.

In a crisp, British accent, Vayne called out with suppressed irritation, "Enter."

The creak of the slowly opening door was followed by heavy footsteps as a middle-aged man dressed in large, black armor stepped into the room. Pressing a hand to his chest in salute and recognition – large, jutting helm resting beneath his arm at his side – Judge Magister Ghis' stern face and backset eyes locked faithfully on his leader's strong, unwavering gaze.

In a similar British accent, Ghis announced in a moderately low tone, "Our attempts to enter Henne Mines have been pushed back."

With a soft scowl, Vayne tossed the article in his lap aside – watching it for a moment as it fluttered onto the desk with the mismatched pile of similar displayed titles. Ghis didn't flinch at his lord's clear irritation, but instead waited patiently for a minute before prompting respectively, "My Lord?"

At this, Vayne raised his gaze accusingly. He considered the Judge before him for a minute before turning to stroking his chin in thought. The search for Nethicite over the years remained fruitless, and without access to the Henne Mines, would most likely remain so. Dalmasca refused to yield authority to the Archades Empire and the forces backing them. They presented a strong front – and not sitting on the throne – Vayne didn't have the authority to set the lines of a battlefield.

As silence passed, Ghis' gaze remained fixated on his leader and to the extravagant, threaded tapestries and various flags hanging decoratively from the stone walls. The lord's room was well kept and organized with various antiques of other lands, including strange items and devices the Judge had yet to see on the marketplace. Rumors amongst the people stated that Vayne had connections with merchants in Spira. Ghis had refused to believe that any son of Gramis would coincide with members of the Other World, but the strange items in the room made the man wonder.

As if catching Ghis' thoughts, Vayne raised a stern look to the Judge, and Ghis quickly returned his attention to the lord. Laying his arm on the desk, Vayne surveyed his faithful servant with interest before prompting in a flat, quiet tone, "What of the people? Do they remain faithful despite our _wasted_ efforts?"

Shifting slightly as Vayne spat the word accusingly, Ghis fixated his eyes above his leader's head before replying promptly in an impassive voice, "Their loyalty remains strong to the royal blood."

The thought of the 'royal blood' disgusted Vayne thoroughly. His family was elected to the control of Archades, and a pheasant was just as likely to take the throne next. He suspected though that the role of Emperor – despite his father's wishes – would go to Larsa soon enough. Perhaps if the role _did _go to him though…

New thoughts and premises of the idea of Emperor played in Vayne's mind. Seeing the thoughtful look passing over the man's face, Ghis prompted again, "My Lord?"

This time, the title didn't enrage the man. Instead, Vayne looked up squarely into the man's eyes as he considered his faithful follower. Resting his chin against a fist, Vayne asked, "Tell me Ghis, what do you know of Spira?"

Finding this question thoroughly sudden, Ghis cleared his throat as he struggled to pick a plausible answer that wouldn't trigger a mood swing in the prince. Finally, he settled on the simple statement: "Not much, Lord Vayne. Spira remains disconnected from Ivalice and the nation's ways."

Giving a curt, understanding nod of this, Vayne inclined his head in deep thought. His furrowed brow made him look continuously hot-tempered. His shoulder-length, dark hair swayed to shield his face and the real feeling lying behind his perceptive eyes. At last, Vayne spoke in an even mid-tone; "Do a thorough research of Spira – send a scout to report back on their basic ways and the races resting there."

Thoroughly interested by Vayne's hidden plans, Ghis clamped his mouth shut firmly. With a straight salute, he paused before turning on heel and heading for the door. The Judge closed the door to the quiet silence of the room and the chaos erupting in his lord's mind.

A good soldier follows orders only – and never raises question to a mission nor the result that may come of it. A good soldier is willing to die for their country or a fellow man, but knows how to hold their own. A good soldier knows when to stand and fight, and when retreat is the better cause – a good soldier never surrenders.

By these standards, Cloud wasn't a good soldier. The same thoughts and techniques drilled into the common fighter's mind didn't apply to him. The Archadian army was consisted of puppets, and Cloud refused to be one of them any longer. Every time he tried to withdraw though, Vayne Solidor would always find a way to loop him back, or capture him.

When the draft came claiming his next mission, Cloud narrowed his cold, blue eyes at the thick parchment – scanning the words repeatedly to understand the terms. The messenger had already strolled off to complete other necessary deliveries. With an exasperated sigh, the blonde-spiky haired youth leaned back against the stone platform. The door to the shop opened with a clear jingle of bells. The woman stepping out – basket laden with flowers resting on her arm – eyed him as she strode briskly down the slope and disappeared into a crowd of children.

To the citizens of Archades, Cloud was nothing more than a mercenary boy – doing as the lords wished. They didn't see the hidden magikal shackles bounding him to Vayne's will and mercy – or lack of.

With a grunt, the imprisoned youth pushed himself to his feet. Dusting himself off a bit, he scanned the long sloping street – eyes catching on the gleam of each Arcadian soldier's armor. Cloud was the only one fighting against his will for this country, and it wasn't even his.

Vayne's plans were issued quietly from his own personal control – and therefore remained unknown to the rest of the royal family. Even if Larsa knew of his older brother's plans, he wouldn't have understood their full meaning. Larsa _hoped _for an alliance between Ivalice and Spira. Perhaps then, his father could truly relax and begin to recover from the illness befallen him. Despite Gramis' comforting words, Larsa understood – at least to the extent a sheltered child could – the desperate situation of his father's health.

What would happen if the Emperor died? Would Vayne take the throne, and keep their bloodline in control? Would Vayne _accept _the role even? He often spoke in dislike of the role of Emperor. He would rather serve and advise the ruler, then act as ruler himself.

Larsa felt impartial about the situation. He was young – only twelve – and understood little about the world's troubles. What was the dispute between Ivalice and Spira? Gramis seemed unable to give an answer, but Larsa suspected that it was something other then the technology crisis Spira expressed. In truth, the youth didn't understand how a world could advance and exist without the use of mechanics – for travel, protection, and the daily routine of life.

Larsa was sitting in his room contemplating this when a sharp knock came at his door. The sound shot the youth from his deep thinking, and jumping a little, Larsa had to take a deep breath before he could call in a calm voice, "Come in."

The strict, proud face of his brother appeared around the opening door. His dark, attentive eyes met his sibling's with a soft, caring look. Pushing himself to his feet – mood thoroughly lightened at the rare visit from Vayne – Larsa gestured him inside, saying enthusiastically, "Brother – please, close the door."

Letting it shut quietly behind him, Vayne strode closer. When he was mere feet from his brother, the man gazed around the room very similar to his own. Larsa had long since out-grown toys – having to care to their father's health for several years now. Vayne himself was consumed in the empire's affairs, and was permitted little time to even gather thoughts that didn't consider the welfare of his people.

Looking to his secretly anxious brother now, Vayne announced in a soft tone, "I'm here on pressing time, Larsa."

The boy's spirit faltered at these words, and the youth replied softly, "Oh," before turning and sitting in the cushioned, wooden chair at his desk. Larsa's eyes were fixated on his hands as he rested them on the wooden surface. After a moment, he raised his gaze to inquire, "Then what may I be of help with?"

_Ever the serious one_, Vayne noted quietly. _You have grown far too quick, little brother of mine…_

After a moment, Vayne stepped closer, and said in a light tone, "I have to conduct a research in Spira for hopes of permitting a treaty."

This perked Larsa's interest thoroughly, and he watched his older brother attentively. Far back before he was born, Spira and Ivalice had claimed their differences and gone their separate ways. There had been small hope of treaties since then. His father claimed that the Spirans blamed Ivalice for Sin's arrival. With the belief the monstrous, destructive creature came from its use of technology, it was no wonder that Spira wanted to take precautions and not involve itself with Ivalice.

"Do you think they will listen?"

With a deep nod of his head, Vayne noted, "I believe that with time, Spira and its Maesters will begin to notice the folly of their ways and speak peace terms."

Considering this statement for a patient moment, Larsa prompted now in pure curiosity, "But what does this matter have to do with me?"

Striding towards the neatly made bed and staring at the window and the waning sky beyond, Vayne seemed to contemplate this question for a minute before saying the words carefully; "I was thinking this a chance for you to experience Spira for yourself." Turning towards his brother with a light smile now, Vayne noted, "After all, how many more chances will there be? Enjoy it now, when you are still young and untroubled."

Larsa's eyes widened at these words as they started to register. Within moments, the youth was on his feet and throwing himself towards his brother. Vayne rested a hand on Larsa's shoulder as he waited patiently – a small smile creeping on his face as ambitions shone secretly in his eyes. When at last Larsa parted from the man's strong form, he raised his bewildered gaze – disbelief still shining in his narrow, youthful pupils.

_The liveliness has been sucked away in his stay here_, Vayne noted with an inner grimace. _Father is a leech on Larsa, knowing nothing more than to suck to live._

"A-Are you serious?" Larsa prompted with a flourish of his accent. Thoughts of the foreign country brought a flutter of excitement and anticipation within him. The little prince had seen little outside Archades. To travel to a completely new world was a big step and change from his boring and demanding daily routine. Then the youth's face fell at this realization, as he muttered quietly, "Father, he…"

With a shake of his head, Vayne told his brother firmly, "Don't worry about the Emperor. I will personally make sure he is well attended to." At this, Larsa raised a grateful, lightened gaze and the years that seemed to have added to his true age began to melt away. It was a comforting sight, and for a minute, Vayne even forgot his secret treachery.

Clapping his brother on the shoulder and stepping back, Vayne decided it was best to leave before his conscience got the better of him. Turning and heading for the door, Vayne hid a contemplative smirk as visions of the upcoming events flashed in his daring, fiery orbs. Soon life for both himself and Archades would change, and Spira would reach a drastic situation that would quickly solve this ongoing struggle between the two sides of the world.

-

* * *

**Inspired Music: **"Be Prepared" - _Disney's Lion King OST_


	7. CHPT 6: Rabanastre's Festivities

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Rabanastre's Festivities**

**-**

* * *

**- **

**NOT **all life throughout the lands share the same troubles and worries. Cities miles apart can appear so different in their daily routine and overall outlook on life. While the rest of the world was busily fretting about the ongoing power struggle between Ivalice and Spira, those residing in Rabanastre remained untouched by these troubles. 

The festivities and chaos of the marketplace as morning dawned brightly lifted an air of enthusiasm on even the most dreary and worn faces. Light birdcalls added to the serene mood – flying overhead in arrays of vibrant colors. Merchants called out in various levels of accents above the growing din. The light _kupos _from moogles rang the air as they directed travelers carrying goods through the curving, cobblestone streets.

The enlightening discussion of other cities, factions, and rumors through various arrays of tongues was an inquiring distraction. Heart fluttering – caught up in the carrying voices and exclamations – Penelo strode the streets with tuned-in ears. She eyed the mismatched faces of humes, long snout, lizard-like Bangaa, snorting, floppy mutt faced Nu Mou, and the prestige, graceful forms of the Viera.

Distracted by the different races and their sub-forms, Penelo slammed alarmingly into a massive, grunting form. Pushed back into the parting and shuffling crowds, the young girl raised a bright and surprised gaze to the slow-moving form of a Seeq that sent a ping of alarm through her. The Seeq were a powerful, but dimwitted race that were quick to resort to violence. The sun beat against the various shiny and cheap objects hanging from his clothing.

The lizard's gaze seem to waver until it at last focused on the small, nervous form of the hume before him. In a rough, barely eligible voice, he scoffed, proclaiming loudly, "Wat w'er goin'."

Straightening, Penelo let herself melt into the shuffling crowds, and be carried away. Her pulse began to slow again, and as she took a deep breath, her worries concerning the Seeq disappeared. The important thing to do when roaming the streets of Rabanastre during the busy season was to maintain a constant guard to avoid conflict and brawls with other visiting races. Humes normally were very good about making their guests feel comfortable – putting on hourly shows, having contests of mind, skill, and luck, and even races and brawls with restricting rules. Penelo acted as a dancer in the mid square, and made great tips during these breakouts of chaotic visits.

In fact, the youth was on her way to the bazaar for her next show. Time was pressing – she had to be there and ready before the city clock rang eleven times to announce the drawing conclusion of the morning. With carrier bag full of clothes and accessories swinging at her side, Penelo excused her way down the street as the bazaar came into view. Here a space had been cleared around the one side of the fountain where the show would take place. A small, feline-type Rebe stood to one side, polishing a flute, with two Viera tending to drums and a small wooden harp.

Pushing her way through the crowds, Penelo broke into the small space – panting lightly. Without a word, she swung her bag off and began taking out the veils, lace, and cheap jewelry to add to her bright, but simple outfit. One of the Viera – named Aume – stepped closer and began to unravel her messy blonde hair from the two braids, and redoing the style with long, expert fingers. Penelo gave the Viera a grateful look as she clipped on the shiny, plastic earrings with fake red jewels centered in the dangling pieces. Sometimes Penelo thought this job too much of a hassle for the pay it delivered.

_Better then being an errand-runner_, the girl supposed as she drew in a deep breath. The crowd was muttering and pointing towards the small band as they waited on shifting feet for the show to begin.

An enlightening tune began with a steady beat, and after a moment, Penelo began her dance. The sway of overlapping and weaving veils was a mesmerizing sight as the magiked, changing-color glitter caught the sun's rays. Aume tossed bombs of powder in-between her drumming, that made the crowd gasp as Penelo seemed to be dancing on air. So light and quick were her movements that it was difficult to imagine her feet made contact with the ground at all.

The mesmerizing dance soon swayed from the cobblestone clearing to the stone rim of the large, square fountain. The constantly running water wavered her reflection, casting a rainbow glow on the currents running in the basin. Penelo's quick stepping on the thin rim where she resided even higher then the tallest Viera drew attention from passing visitors. Soon, small coins were being thrown the performers' way, and strewn into an impressive, accumulating pile.

Children parted from watching parents to dance in the open spaces – throwing their arms around clumsily and turning joyfully as they let the inspiring music fill them. Soon, their parents joined them, cheering them along and laughing at the embracing merriment. Penelo smiled at the children, and swathed them with her veils, guiding their arms as they spun to create a fascinating swirl of vastly changing colors.

The event soon drew eyes from other streets, and the bazaar became packed with exclaiming, urgent viewers. Vaan was ducking out from the lower levels and into the mismatched crowds when the rushing of the visitors down the cobblestone road caught his attention. Shielding his rusty blade into the scabbard resting against hit thighs, Vaan followed at a slower pace. As the crowd drifted towards the mid square, a wide smile passed over his features as realization hit home.

Jogging his way through and around the crowd, Vaan made his way slowly to the fronts ranks. Coming to a slow stop, his smile widened as a dancing light entered his eyes at the sight of the scene. Penelo – so caught up in the event – didn't see her lifelong friend standing there, watching her in pride and fascination. No matter how many times he'd seen Penelo dance, Vaan always found joy in it. Letting himself be caught up in the merriment was reassuring and pressed worrisome matters to the back of his mind.

The scene was like a tornado of colors. It moved and swirled unexpectedly but in a beautiful and unwavering way. The band players were consumed in their music, but still watched delightedly at the faces of their audience. This made the constant hours of practice worth it all. They were here for the enthusiasm they spread – not the money. Gil was just essential for living.

Seeing Penelo's movements wavering a little, the music turned into a softening sound with a strong finishing count from the drums. With an abrupt explosion of the remaining powder, the event suddenly ceased. Penelo posed on her tiptoes with arms laid out dramatically before her, standing on the middle of the rim of a side of the fountain – face alight and flushed as her breath came in short gasps. A wide, radiating smile was spread over her alight features. The sparkle in the girl's eyes caught in the morning sunlight, and Penelo became a beacon in the bazaar – drawing distant gazes to her.

Vaan stood in fascination at the still form of his best friend – veils still glittering. After a moment, Penelo's eyes met his, and she slowly lowered her arms and out held leg. Her limbs shook visibly as the thrill of the dance still filled her, and she half stumbled off the fountain to sit on the stone side. Coins still showered the area as children returned the illuminating items to the kind dancer, thanking her before hurrying off to tell their friends about the exhilarating feeling they'd shared.

The musicians began packing up their instruments and gathering the money from the area – accepting remarks and small favors and items from departing viewers. As the crowd shuffled away in excited talk, Vaan continued to stand watching Penelo. She sat catching her breath, still panting lightly as the adrenaline began to drain from her stiff and tired limbs.

Drawing level now, Vaan picked up a stray gil coin – and watching it as he flipped it into the air and caught it repeatedly, noted in an appraising voice, "That was…really amazing, Penelo."

Raising a still smiling expression to the lad, she managed in an excited tone, "Th-Thanks."

Snatching the coin in mid-air from Vaan, Aume stated with a smile, "She did very well." Resting a hand on Penelo's shoulder for a moment – meeting the beaming girl's appreciative glance for a moment – Aume gave a nod towards Vaan before moving away to finish packing.

Unclipping her earrings as her breathing returned to normal steadily, Penelo still felt like she couldn't stand. Her legs were wobbly and her feet sore from the light but strong pushing against the ground to give her the illusion of drifting in the air. Despite that the whole matter was a tiring process, Penelo really did draw a reassuring, joyful feeling from it. It was a lingering feeling that remained very comforting during the difficult times.

Starting to pack her things away in the nearby, discarded bag, Penelo prompted, "So how was work?"

'Work' wasn't the quite the right term. Vaan was a delivery boy, doing errands for his and Penelo's adoptive father, Migelo. After Vaan's own parents died and his brother entered the war, Penelo's parents had adopted the youth. However, sickness had befallen the girl's parents as well, and Migelo took them in and raised them out of pity and compassion. Despite that the elderly Bangaa could be strict and old-fashioned, he was very kind and caring for them.

Collapsing on the stone rim beside his friend, Vaan gave an exhausted sigh. With a shake of his head, he watched Penelo pack her things and zip up the bag, replying with a light grimace, "Tiresome. I've been running around since seven – getting materials and notices to merchants. Making deliveries of pre-ordered goods; trying to find the right people – which isn't easy by the way," he added with a skeptical look.

Penelo gave him a pretty smile at this, noting, "Well, Migelo can't do it himself anymore. The excitement would kill him."

Shrugging, Vaan muttered, "Bad for business. The old boot hardly knows what he's doing half the time."

Giving a giggle at this, Penelo said with a furrowed brow – trying to pertain a serious, disapproving tone; "Hey, he's worked hard. He shouldn't have to do this anymore."

Vaan gave a small smile as Penelo hit him lightly on the forearm. Watching her rise to her feet and take a few steps away, Vaan was reminded of their childhood – back when Penelo's parents had just adopted him. Despite the tragedy of his parents' death and his brother's withdrawal into war, life had been good. As children, they didn't have the worries they had today. The sad truth was, that someone like Migelo who worked hard all their life for little to no result still had to work until death followed exhaustion. It certainly wasn't fair – but it's how things were.

Turning on heel with arms at her back, Penelo tilted her head to one side with a sweetening smile. The familiar look hardly phased Vaan, but knowing that the morning dance had strengthened his friend's mood, released a sigh, inquiring, "All right, what do you want now?"

Without a word, Penelo darted forward, and grasping Vaan's arm, began leading him hurriedly down the street. The youth struggled to trot behind her – caught in the girl's surprisingly strong grip. Vaan thought again to their broken families. They only had each other now, and somehow, had managed on their own where others failed before them.

_Reks_, Vaan thought mournfully. The shuffling forms blended in together as his mind went back to the last time he saw his brother alive. Despite that his wound was wrapped and well taken care of, the light in Reks' eyes had dimmed and died until hope and life gave up on his frail body.

These thoughts were slammed from him as Vaan was pulled to a sudden stop – miss-stepping and stumbling against Penelo lightly. The girl didn't seem to notice as she was watching something to one side. Vaan followed her gaze curiously, and his eyes caught on the commotion drawing attention from several passing citizens.

A crowd was forming around a sleek, blonde haired youth and a Bangaa – angry voices carrying over the mutters of their audience. The male hume's back was presented to the pair, but Vaan didn't recognize his tall, gangly figure from the city.

_Another outsider_, the youth noted with a light scowl. Though the commotion in Rabanastre was great for business, it also had him running around tirelessly – at his second stepfather's every whim and command.

The argument took a bad toll as the mauve, wrinkly-skinned Bangaa struck out with a powerful, clawed hand. The man moved back swiftly with a soft jingle. The Bangaa stepped closer as he waved a fist angrily at the stranger – shouting something illegibly.

As the Bangaa charged his opponent now, the man turned tail and fled with head ducked. Powerful legs pumping him swiftly forward, he pushed his way through the startled crowd. Almost smacking into the approaching, curious Penelo, he quickly darted to one side around the pair before disappearing into the surrounding crowds. Shouts from the panting Bangaa made Vaan turn his gaze towards the merchant.

With a deep-throated scowl, the creature waved his arms above his head angrily – shouting random syllables now as if lost for real words. Stepping forward with hands curling before her, Penelo looked to the Bangaa with a worried expression, prompting carefully, "What happened?"

Turning to her sharply, the merchant scoffed, replying hoarsely, "Thiet! Thiet!" At Penelo's shocked expression, he snorted before turning away.

Vaan watched the confused and angry Bangaa pause as if he were lost, and then turn back towards his stand with inaudible mutters. Drawing level, he rested a hand on Penelo's shoulder, saying, "Come on, let's let this be. What was it that you wanted to show me?"

Gazing up at her lifelong friend, Penelo paused a moment before turning to him and stating in a clear voice, "You should help him."

Blinking at her, Vaan shook his head with a sigh, saying, "It's not any of our business, Penelo."

With a scrutinizing look, the girl noted, "You're only saying that because you steal yourself."

"From the Empire," Vaan corrected, pointing an index finger at her. He was leaning heavily on his right foot to look her squarely in the eye now.

Finally, Penelo broke the gaze with a light scoff and then headed down the street, calling back, "Fine, but I have another show in half an hour. I'll catch you later, Vaan."

-

* * *

**Inspired Music: ** "Where the Blacktop Ends" _- Keith Urban_


	8. CHPT 7: Escorting

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Escorting**

**-**

* * *

**- **

**SILENCE **stretched the already wide space between them. From where the Viera sat in her seat at the Strahl's controls, Fran could sense her captain's reluctance to answer the question hanging over their heads. Balthier had simply shrugged at his crewmember's prompt, and sat back to relax in his comfortable chair – staring out at the world passing beneath them. Spira lay dark and quiet as the night droned on.

For those brief minutes of silence, it was as if the worlds of Ivalice and Spira were one – sharing a common situation and feeling. Glancing over, Fran wondered if Balthier shared her common feeling for that village girl. The Viera understood Balthier's characteristic of wooing women, but the man seemed to have withdrawn into himself and his goals – focusing on traveling Spira and finding the Paradise of Lights, rather than thievery or skirt-chasing.

During the last few months, Fran had forgotten the human qualities that had initially driven her away, and drawn her back again. It was Balthier's outlook on life that fascinated her the most. The Sky Pirate didn't care for the struggle between the two worlds, combat, or for really anyone else. He worked on any turf through his own rules and perspectives of situations. Fran found herself envious of the man's careless, laidback but dedicated attitude.

_Shouldn't let it get to me,_ Fran realized. Still, she couldn't tear her perspective gaze from his collective expression. There was something shining in his eyes – a spark she herself had never lit.

The question hung heavier – thickening the air and stopping Fran from forming the words she wanted to – from Balthier saying the ones she wanted to hear. The dark depths of the ocean passed slowly and steadily beneath them – the waves were always moving, but they were always the same.

__

I'm the same…coming from one land to another, and still clinging to faltering hope.

Mustering up dormant courage, Fran inquired in a light voice, "Will you attend to the wound properly?"

The Sky Pirate seemed to consider this question for a minute as he turned to her. Balthier appeared thoughtful for a moment, before glancing to his wounded shoulder, saying in a calm, barren tone, "I suppose I should."

As he began to untie the bloodstained gold cloth, Fran hesitated before asking suddenly, "Perhaps some trouble?"

Pushing himself up from his seat and resting his hand on her seat back for leverage, Balthier answered distantly in a mocking tone, "Please, Fran…it's just a scratch."

Turning to gaze over her seat back, the Viera watched the man step through the doors. The soft metal clank of them closing made her sigh before turning her gaze back to the growing, dark landmass in the distance. In Spira lay the reality to Balthier's dreams. As his crewmember and best friend and companion, Fran would ensure that her captain made it through – no matter how in over his head he got.

-

* * *

-

After a few hours of restless slumber, Squall awoke with the others before the sun's first rays had peeked through their closed windows. The youth lay quietly amongst his pillows and blankets as his roommates started and groaned. Perhaps if he pretended to be asleep, then Kaye and Jin would let him rest until Quistis would come in and haul him out of bed.

_Wouldn't be the first time,_ Squall noted impassively with half-closed eyes. There was a shuffling from one side as Jin let loose a loud curse, but the quiet youth didn't dare glance over. The longer he lay here, the longer he wasn't wearied by the responsibilities of being a SOLDIER.

Jin and Kaye appeared reluctant as well, since their movements were deliberately slow and sluggish – unbefitting of a SOLDIER. They had barely dressed when their door opened with a sudden snap, and overhead orbs flickered on. Bright light streamed from the ceiling, making Squall squint against their strength.

In the doorway, Quistis stood with a serious look as she surveyed the remainder of her squad. The leader was already dressed in well-pressed and neat clothing – hair put up tightly and glasses up flat against her eyes.

Once straightened, Jin and Kaye – recognizing their leader's stern and demanding presence – saluted to her and remained perfectly still as they waited for her to speak. Quistis' eyes passed over them until they rested and narrowed on the slumped Squall.

Striding past the patiently waiting pair, Trepe paused at the last man's bed. With hands resting palm-down on her hips, she kicked at the bed with her tall, thick boots. When Squall didn't stir or speak, she kicked harder at the soft mattresses. The bed shuddered and one of the blankets slipped halfway to the floor, revealing the strong muscles of Squall's bare chest.

With an arm pressed over his forehead to block the unyielding light, the youth gave a light groan of protest. Stepping closer, Quistis peered down at him disapprovingly, stating firmly, "Your father didn't send you into this program so you could lie around."

Giving a twist of his mouth, Squall hissed back in a low, contempt tone, "My father remains the Fool."

With a roll of her eyes, Quistis noted, "And you remain the stubborn sloth." Smacking his cheek, she added as she moved away, "Come on, up. We've been given new orders by the Grand Maester."

Disgruntlement leaking away, it was replaced by curiosity as Squall sat up and threw his bare legs over the side of the bed. Elbows resting on white thighs, he looked up at his leader with a confused look, inquiring, "What could have happened in the last twelve hours?"

Pausing in the doorway with her hand on the frame, Trepe waited a minute before glancing back at her lifelong companion, replying vaguely, "You'll discover that once you're dressed and out here."

As the door closed behind her, Jin and Kaye stood watching it for a quite minute as Squall rose and dressed. Pulling on his jacket, Squall eyed his roommates, asking, "Did she say anything to either of you before?"

Without a word, Jin opened the door and strode into the hallway. Kaye gazed after him for a moment, before turning to his remaining squad member, and shrugged, saying, "Not a thing."

Kaye followed his departed companion, with Squall bringing up the rear. Stepping into the travel agency's lobby, they found Mais already dressed and standing to one side as she waited. There was an anxiety in her stiff feet as she met her companions' wondering gazes. As Squall emerged however, she quickly looked away.

Not letting this bother him, Squall took his spot in the semi-circle around their leader. Quistis stood surveying them with her arms crossed before her and leaning heavily on one leg.

She waited a tense minute before saying in a prompt, flat tone, "We have been given new, pressing orders. Within the next day or so, we have important individuals arriving at the Luca Harbor." Quistis paused reluctantly a moment before adding, "From Ivalice."

This caused a few surprised looks and mutters. Mais shifted to one side, chewing her bottom lip softly. Jin remained impassive at the news, but there was a slight arch in his eyebrows. Kaye seemed to be taking it a little harder as his limbs shook. There hadn't been important visitors from Ivalice in a decade or so. In fact, it was right after the last encounter that the training and forming of SOLDIER began.

Another minute of this passed before Quistis told them steadily, "All right, calm down…calm down."

Mais asked the question playing on everyone's mind – her tone soft and low; "Who's coming?"

A hesitant moment passed before the answer came back, "An escort guiding young Sir Larsa from Archades."

-

* * *

-

The sturdy ship bound steadfast over the rickety waves of World's End. Despite the centuries and proof that the vast ocean didn't lead to the other side of Ivalice, the name remained. The thrill of the expedition and the swift movement of their travel was overwhelming as Larsa stood with hands gripping the railing – wind whipping back his shoulder-length, black hair.

There was still no sign of landmass, but Larsa could feel them drawing closer with every moment. His heart thumped hard against his ribcage, giving him a small sore spot. The youth was too consumed in thoughts of the Other World to give anything else much attention. True, he would have to speak with the Maesters, but their domain rested some distance away from where they were landing.

_Plenty of time to look around,_ the youth noted excitedly. Larsa tried to remind himself of his prestige, but he stood mostly alone on the deck of the ship. The crew was too busy with their tasks.

The only other individual who had come along on the voyage was a mercenary that Vayne had hired to watch over him. Though Larsa was sure that the escort group awaiting him in Spira would do finely, he understood his brother's concern. In truth, Larsa was nervous as well as excited. He had never been to Spira, and knew little of what to expect. What would the Spirans' reactions to his arrival be? Would they disregard him, welcome him? He sincerely hoped the best.

From across the wooden planks of the wide girth of the deck, Cloud raised a watchful gaze to the small form with his back to him. Larsa stood oblivious to Vayne's true intentions for his trip to the Other World. However, it was merely Cloud's mission to infiltrate Spira and follow through with orders.

__

What other choice do I have?

Vayne had the youth in a bind – he had control over his physical actions. The hidden links on his ankles and around his neck kept him in line. Vayne would send shocking pulses to the devices that would drop Cloud to his knees. He had tried to remove them, but found they had a self-activate shock for the attempt.

Cloud was a free-roaming prisoner. There was only one thing that would change that now…

-

* * *

-

After the initial shock of the situation passed, the SOLDIER squad swept their way back down the familiar Mi'ihen Highroad towards the bustling town of Luca. The faint smell of sea-salt stifled their senses and made their heads spin. However, as trained combatants, they remained well conserved.

The tread down the unstable highroad unfazed the troop with their steady footfall and sure steps. There was no encounter with any fiends, and the relaxed, smiling faces of travelers sent a reassuring feeling through them. Squall however, remained impassive with a deep inner grim.

How could they maintain such a cheerful aspect after what took place yesterday? When their lives were constantly threatened? What kept their hopes so high?

_Perhaps it is Sin's departure, _Squall reminded himself. _Even with the fiends preying upon them, the beast is still gone. __They can rest easy once again._

The stroll into Luca was a pushy one. Those bustling past through the large city paid the squad little mind. Despite the rumors surrounding Bevelle and the Maesters' intentions, there wasn't too much talk about SOLDIER yet. For this, the group was thankful. They weren't sure how some people would react, and they wanted their first mission to go well.

Quistis strode down the steps into the square with a brisk air of authority around her. Those who gazed into the woman's unfaltering eyes quickly strode away or kept their distance. A fiery passion burned in the leader's pupils that drove needles into others as she expected them closely. Despite that the boat wasn't due to arrive for another hour or so, Quistis searched the citizens carefully. Gramis surely would have granted his youngest son protection from Ivalice.

Jin and Mais stepped faithfully in their leader's shoes – inspecting those with different clothing clearly here to visit. Kaye remained in awe of the city. They had come from the North, and therefore hadn't passed through Luca and its cobblestone streets to reach their destination. Squall brought up the rear in careful silence. His interest didn't lie in the different dressed individuals, or with the city's bustling festivities, or wide-screen displaying various events happening throughout Luca, or with the merchants and dealers yelling out various calls.

Instead, the man's attention focused on his squad and the events lying ahead for them. Why had _their _squad been chosen for such an important mission? There were better trained SOLDIERs dispatched nearby. Surely, they could have easily made it to Luca without problem, what with the Maesters' countless connections.

Coming to a halt from their slow walk at the road leading down towards the real activity of the city, Quistis turned her scrutinizing gaze towards her trained followers. Jin and Mais – who had been stepping closely behind their leader – bumped into one another as they halted. Kaye remained distracted by the colorful items presented on stands, and the children running around with balloons in their hands. Reporters were interviewing excited people to one side towards the screen that displayed the interviewer's bright expression with light static to the picture.

Squall came to a steady stop a couple feet off – at the bottom of the small staircase. He raised his impassive expression to gaze his leader, but Quistis was looking beyond her crew towards the overhead leading to the Mi'ihen Highroad. After a minute passed in silence, she merely slowly turned around and headed on. As the others fell into line before him, Squall stepped onto the first stair.

A light prickling caused the youth to tense and after a moment, he glanced over his shoulder towards the overhead. Two men strapped in tight, yellow uniforms with goggles over their eyes watched the departing group intensely. Their hands gripped the railing, as they talked to one another in low mutters. Squall's hearing cued in to their conversation over the din of the bazaar, but their words made little sense to him.

_Al Bhed_, the youth concluded.

Squall hesitated only a moment longer before jogging to catch up and walk hesitantly behind Kaye.

-

* * *

-

Coming into Luca harbor was a task much more tedious and troublesome than Larsa expected. The ships drifting in and out of the canal blew their horns in good nature and recognition. A thrill shuddered through Larsa as his own escort ship replied to another larger, passing one. Those on deck waved towards them – shouting out indistinguishable greetings that the sailors returned in enthusiasm – the little prince amongst them.

Cloud remained quiet throughout the steady pull towards the decks, but even he appeared fascinated with the bright colors of Luca's tall buildings, and the number of people gathered on its distant streets. Blimps, balloons, and banners streamed the air as excitement stretched like a plague through the city. Though the sailors had seen Luca many times themselves, they were smiling broadly with shifting, anxious hands and feet hurriedly completing the tasks to draw the ship to a slow halt beside an almost empty harbor.

As the escort ship pulled up and came to a slow pause – horn announcing their arrival – Larsa bended over the side to gaze expectantly down at the stone stretch. Besides a couple of stray people standing to one side consumed in chatter, there were no signs of an escort group. The sailors were pushing a wooden ramp down the open side of the ship when Cloud stepped behind the prince.

Larsa gazed back into the stranger's cold gaze before prompting curiously, "The escort group…where could they—?"

The youth didn't get to finish the sentence before Cloud lifted his gaze towards the curving streets running out if view beneath high, stone ceilings. Larsa followed the man's stare, and his eyes focused on four similarly dressed individuals heading purposely their way. The men and women's bright yellow uniforms illumined them against the cold gray and blue of the city walls.

The sailors were bustling about, gesturing the pair towards the ramp. The captain strode forward, saying with an apologetic look, "We must be on our way. If you could…"

Before he could finish, Cloud was already heading for the wooden rise with Larsa stepping in his shadow. A crisp wind blew past them and lifted the prince's spirit as he paused at the ramp's end, closing his eyes to the close birdcalls and distant festivity. The escort group stood to one side in the distance as they waited patiently.

Cloud came to a slow stop, eyeing the squad suspiciously. Their faces remained impassive, and on their backs strapped wrapped, long objects that made the mercenary hesitant. Larsa appeared oblivious to any threat these people could press. He strode by the stiffened mercenary towards the escort.

In a prompt and polite voice, he stated with indication of pride, "I am Larsa Ferrinas Solidor – fourth son to Gramis Gana Solidor. Emperor to the Archadian throne residing in the Northlands of Ivalice."

One of the men – tall and stocky with a bald head – turned his attention to the other three, stating with a strong accent and gesturing towards the youth, "Fryd fuimt Ivalians pa tuehk eh Spira?" Larsa blinked at the man uncertainly. Ears pricking at the strange language, Cloud strode cautiously towards them.

One of the women rested her chin in her fist, other hand holding her elbow. She appeared impassive for a moment – her eyes hidden like the others by the goggles strapped around her head. In an inquiring voice, she replied in the same tongue, "Banrybc du dymg bayla?"

With a scrutinizing tone, the second man stated firmly, "Ivalians yna hudrehk pid hiecyhlac. Fa syo ica Machina, pid drao dyga vun knyhdat dra bufan uin yhlacdunc pacdufat ibuh dras."

At this, the middle-aged man returned his gaze towards Larsa's draining expression. The youth was beginning to sense the four's own uneasiness about the situation. As he took a cautious step back, he was halted by a hand on his shoulder. Larsa raised a worried expression towards Cloud, but the mercenary remained impassive as he glared silently at the four mysterious individuals.

A hushed discussion led to four agreeing nods of the groups' heads before they turned towards the pair and began circling in. Cloud's stray hand headed slowly for the large buster sword strapped to his back – the tip almost brushing the ground. The balding man – clearly the leader – shouted something incomprehensible, and the woman who had spoken before, darted forward. With one swift motion, she aimed a hard fist beneath the mercenary's ribs – throwing the breath from Cloud's lungs. His sight began to dim and his knees buckled as another hit to his head sent him into nothingness.

-

* * *

**Inspired Music: **"On My Way" _by Phil Collins_


	9. CHPT 8: Pretending is for Children

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Pretending is for Children  
**

**-**

**-**

* * *

**- **

**MANY **things can change within a single moment – a life can be taken, a baby born, a nation could fall, or just a change in mood. Every day there is an every moment when someone realizes something they hadn't before. Whether a small notion or a revelation, it becomes important and even disturbing, to the one it happens to.

The moment Yuna had a realization was while she was lying in her bed following the exciting and chaotic events of the Spring Celebration. After sneaking back into the village and into her bed, she lay there awake – listening to the talk drifting through the thick blanket swept over the dwelling entrance. The villagers' disgruntlement about the intruders somehow sent a flicker of anger in the girl's chest that she quickly suppressed.

When there raised a clutter, Yuna almost got up to go and see what had happened now. Her instincts however, told her to remain still, and she closed her eyes quickly as light fell into the room as the blanket was swept aside. A large shadow loomed over her, and Yuna attempted to make her breathing faint. The last thing she wanted was to be questioned.

When darkness quickly spread again, Yuna still didn't open her eyes. It was so much easier to just pretend.

-

* * *

-

Perhaps if he had given it more thought, Vaan would have realized what the sudden change in Penelo's attitude had meant, or inspired from. However, the youth resolved to his own troublesome situations as he could only present his stepfather with half the wad of quickly strapped receipts.

With skin-slumped hands, Migelo snatched them from Vaan with a shaky hand and pulled them to his nose. The Bangaa's beady eyes studied the small, scrawled print on the squares of paper like a bat in daylight. After a minute pass, the Bangaa shook the papers over his head, saying in an angry, gruff voice, "Where's the rest of them?!"

Cringing slightly at the rise in volume, Vaan gestured towards the papers, replying, "Not all the buyers would sign. I had a lot of rounds."

At this, the Bangaa sighed and lowered his massive bulk onto a small stool in the crowded store. The wood splintered beneath him, but Migelo paid it no mind.

_Times truly are difficult_, Vaan noted with a grimace. Releasing a sigh himself, the youth stated quietly, "I'll find us the money." The Bangaa just shook his head at this – at a loss for words as his mind strung up the numbers.

Without looking up, Migelo questioned, "Where's Penelo?"

"Drawing in gil in the square still." His stepfather only nodded again. Even with the amount of money that Penelo brought in during these festivities, the Empire's taxes were straining them – as well as the rest of Rabanastre. It was just never enough.

Releasing himself from the bending stool with a scuffle, Migelo raised his gaze to Vaan, and pulled at his arm. Dropping some coins into the lad's hand and curling it into a fist, the Bangaa told him, "Find yerself something good."

Vaan looked in confusion at the Bangaa. He wasn't sure what to say. Taking the money would mean that he was taking away from their saving fund, but Vaan had also spent the whole day running around for Migelo. There were things that Vaan had eyed and noted to take. However, Migelo and Penelo greatly disagreed with Vaan's methods of getting back at the Empire.

Deciding he would rather not get the Empire soldiers involved, and Migelo into any more trouble, Vaan nodded and dropped the few gold coins into his pants pocket. Migelo nodded him towards the door, and the youth strode towards it reluctantly. Pausing with his hand on the warm knob, Vaan glanced back at the humid appeal of the item store. The shelves were always stacked with various items from all across Ivalice – books, trinkets, potions, accessories, and several other strange objects.

With a sigh, Vaan turned the knob and strode into the darkening depths of sundown on Rabanastre. He could at least find something small to buy, and pretend that the money spent didn't matter.

-

* * *

-

Tolerance is being able to look at something disliked or disapproved of, and being able to say nothing about it. For too long, Penelo had stood to one side as she watched Vaan pilfer from the Empire soldiers. It wouldn't be long before the youth was caught and jailed.

_He better not expect me to get him out_, Penelo thought heatedly as she packed her things up from the final dance of the day. The streets were already emptying as visitors either left for their homes in nearby lands, or cluttered the scattered inns. Lights began to blink out across town one by one. It was the sign for Penelo to return home.

Bidding her fellow band members good night, the girl swung her bulging bag over her shoulder and strode down the cobblestone street. The faint sounds of crickets, closing doors, and far-off voices made her smile. They were familiar and calming – reassuring that life continued around her. _This _was the side to Rabanastre, which Penelo loved. She remembered sitting on her father's strong, broad shoulders as he skipped down the night street with her – laughing joyously at the feeling of him just being around.

_But it's not like that anymore_, Penelo reminded herself with a light grimace. To dwell too long in a dream meant to never wake up. Reality may not have been pretty, but there was no sense in trying to bend it into an illusion.

Maybe that was why Vaan stole from the Empire. He was creating a small rebellion in his own way to try to change things in Rabanastre. Penelo didn't blame him for wanting a better life for the city, but the way he was going about it was dangerous and foolish.

A sudden prickle on the back of her neck, made Penelo slow her pace. Casting a weary gaze to either side of the street, she expected to see someone lingering outside perhaps for a smoke of their pipe. When nothing stirred, she relaxed a little, but quickened her stride. Bandits surely snuck in with the rest of the tourists, and with how much had made during the day, Penelo didn't want to risk anything. At that moment, she wished dearly that Vaan were with her – that they hadn't fought and he would be walking her home as he did almost every night.

So consumed in thoughts of the differences of other nights and the events earlier that day, Penelo never saw the figure stepping out, and didn't feel the dart pricking her neck as she fell to the ground – already unconscious.

-

* * *

-

Pirates are harmless.

Generally.

They normally don't kidnap or take from those who can't give.

Usually.

Despite their outward appearance, Pirates are really just outcasts looking for a new way of living.

Sometimes.

A Pirate will do what he can to _be_ what he can.

Always.

-

* * *

-

Struggling against the ropes only made them cut into the flesh harder. Sore hands clasped together, all the fourth son of Gramis could do was pray to the gods for a way out of this situation. The unsteady rocking suggested he was stowed on a ship. The blindfold tied tightly around his eyes made it impossible for Larsa to slip off. Indistinct voices made him shift uneasily as the sound of approaching footsteps paused. A rush of wind followed a creak, and the distinct roar of the ocean filled the lad's ears.

There was a lingering sense of tension in the two men's voices as they stood nearby – perhaps on watch duty. Their language was foreign but with familiar syllables. There were a few keywords he could make out, including the terms 'Archades' and 'Spira'.

Did these imposters know who he was? Was that why they had kidnapped him? To prevent the alliance between the two worlds? Larsa couldn't imagine why someone would want to do that. There was so much conflict – wouldn't it be better if Ivalice and Spira worked together?

Evidently, not everyone thought the same way.

Hearing the footsteps stray now, dread drifted over the youth. In an anxious voice, Larsa called out to the retreating men, "Wait, stop! Please, let me go. I'll—"

The door closed and the sounds of the ocean and distant voices were cut off. Larsa sat in the small space quietly now. His back hurt from the hunched position he was forced into. He couldn't feel walls on any side, but his hands brushed against spindly rope. The ends pricked his fingers, making Larsa wince lightly as he stopped shifting.

As tears crept to his closed eyelids, Larsa thought of Vayne and what his brother's rage would be at his kidnapping. He thought of his father – lying sick in bed, hardly able to move or speak without his body being wracked by the terrible disease he carried. Larsa could have pretended, and tell himself everything would be all right, but pretending was for children. 

-

* * *

**Inspired Music: ** "Just a Kid" _by Simple Plan_


	10. CHPT 9: Stakeout

**CHAPTER NINE  
**

**Stakeout  
**

**-**

* * *

**A **Pirate's code keeps a Pirate from harming another Pirate.

A _Land _Pirate's code keeps a Pirate from pilfering another Land Pirate.

A _Sea _Pirate's code keeps a Pirate from anchoring another Sea Pirate.

A Sky Pirate's code keeps a Pirate from making these mistakes.

-

* * *

-

The degree at which Sky Pirates interacted peacefully stifled scholars' understanding and theories on Pirates altogether. While a Land and Sea Pirate might show compassion and mercy upon their own band, Sky Pirates displayed mistrust, loathing, and struggles for power. The world was set against Pirates – Sky Pirates above all – but the real enemy amongst outcasts lay within their own ranks.

The rivalry between Sky Pirates remained a foolish and incompetent notion to those lying outside the airline matters. It was something someone would have to be _directly _a part of to fully comprehend.

At least, that's the reasoning that most Sky Pirates gave.

For others, it was the simple fact that that was how things had always been. Change took time and necessary involvement – a total recap on lifestyle and opinion. It was a difficult matter, and Sky Pirates were generally rebellious people meaning to break away from what the rest of the world was trying to accomplish.

For Locke, he supposed it was the thrill of the chase – the adrenaline of the combat and knowledge that the whole world laid as an enemy and a victim to his deeds. Whether Pirate, civilian, Spiran, or Ivalan, it didn't matter. One person was as much an equal opportunity as the next in the Sky Pirate's eyes.

However, Locke felt naked and very much alone without an aircraft to aid him. Without a means of dependable transportation, he remained a lowly Land Pirate, pilfering like a common thief from merchants at every corner. His catch from the clumsy Bangaa merchant earlier had led him to the real catch – a wandering Rabanastre dancer that would surely draw attentive eyes to her absence. Locke saw her kidnapping as an opportunity to negotiate an exchange.

From the clock tower's top floor, Locke peered out at the empty cobblestone streets of Rabanastre with a look of disgust. Dalmasca had handed the Empire its lands, and Archades was running the kingdom into the ground. The rising urge of chaos Pirates housed was beginning to grow in Locke as he stared at the barren streets – the sun's thin, morning rays attempting to make an impression on the world.

His prisoner sat quietly bound in one corner away from the windows. Locke saw no need for a blindfold – they had already met previously, and once he had his airship, he would be gone from Rabanastre. Despite her given situation, the girl appeared more despaired by her capture than frightened.

The Pirate resisted the urge to approach the matter. The less he became involved with the situation and the girl, the quicker everything would go. Locke had no intention of harming her, or even scaring her for that matter.

Silence had stretched between the kidnapper and the kidnapped throughout the last hours of night. As the sun's red rays melted into the room, the girl finally raised her large eyes to the man. Her blonde hair was tussled from the struggle, but she had given in to her situation, allowing Locke to bind her wrists to her ankles so that she couldn't stand up – let alone run away.

Another minute passed between them as Locke refused to meet the girl's gaze. Instead, he remained leaning stiffly against the wall beside the window – staring out at the stretch of stone buildings below.

At last, the girl prompted in a quiet, desolate voice, "What are you going to do with me?" Locke found the question irritating, and only gave a grunt of response as he shifted slightly where he leaned. When the man obviously wasn't going to answer, Penelo returned to staring grimly at her bound hands resting numbly on the dusty, wooden floorboards.

_Ohh Vaan…where are you?_

-

* * *

-

The evening had passed without activity. Penelo hadn't come into his room to say goodnight, so Vaan supposed she was still angry with him. He didn't hear her climb the steps and enter the room next to his either, so he supposed he must have fallen asleep before she returned.

_Always the late worker_, Vaan half joked with a snort as he lay in his bed, staring up at his dull, gray ceiling. Stone – it was _always _stone. _Everything _was stone. There was little flavor to the Rabanastre city. Then again, he supposed that a building's purpose was to remain erect, not look pretty.

As the morning's early rays spread across his face from the small window resting above his bed, Vaan released a tired sigh before pushing himself up with a grunt. Perhaps he would try speaking to Penelo, though he knew what would happen. She would once again trick him into saying that what he was doing was wrong, and he would make an empty promise of peace. It wasn't as though he didn't try, but the Empyrean soldiers would often take advantage of their power by picking on merchants or taking from the citizens, and Vaan couldn't stand by and watch.

Dressing into a pair of loose pants with a vest to match, he strapped his belt of pouches and their complicated knots around his waist. The last week had been humid, the heat rising from the desert lying from west to east.

Stepping through the wooden doorway and onto the beaten rug running a third the length of the hallway, Vaan cast his eyes towards Penelo's closed door. Complete silence filled the area. Penelo was awake usually before he was – bustling down in the kitchen or coming out of her bedroom dressed and packed. Sometimes she would come into his room, yelling at him for sleeping in, but there were no sounds drifting towards him.

_She must have already left_, Vaan decided with a sigh. He paused outside Migelo's room and pondered whether to wake the ancient Bangaa or not. He would surely be waking soon to open the store resting beneath their measly home. Vaan already had his duties assigned to him for the remainder of the week – there was little sense in bothering the old coot from his peaceful moments.

The streets were already beginning to fill with venders and early watchers. The tourists' haggard and excited faces were eyesores this early as they trotted the length of the uneven streets carelessly. Any discontentment or dilemma previously ensued didn't matter this morning. The day was filled with new beginnings – new chances.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Vaan was hoping that Penelo might see it that way too. Perhaps she would be too caught up in her schedule to scold him, or pay the matter any mind. The youth didn't perceive himself taking alternative actions. Only if the Empire were to march from Rabanastre's streets would he put away his stingy fingers. However, this fool-hearty notion didn't seem probable. Vaan would continue his minor thievery to steal back that which was taken for as long the Empire took.

Perhaps it was the bright sunlight passing down from the clear sky, or the peace that had lay over the streets, with the light hum of small chatter, but Vaan felt calm and relieved as he headed for the bazaar. He had decided – he would apologize to Penelo and attempt to lessen his theft count.

A few stragglers strode around the bazaar – observing events being set up, or exchanging small talk with the entertainers. Vaan paused, letting his gaze stray around the circular area until it landed on the large fountain resting in the center. Aume's towering Viera figure caught his attention as a slow smirk spread over the youth's features. Different species or not, appreciation could still be shown for a fine build.

Despite his quiet steps, the Viera's ears pricked and Aume turned to watch his steady approach. Vaan remained amazed with the Viera's sharp senses and put on a welcoming smile that was exchanged with a beautiful look, and a twitch of a pink, button nose. Blinking in the bright sunlight, Vaan raised an arm to his eyes as Aume strode towards him unaffected.

As she drew to a halt, the youth prompted, "Aume, where can I find Penelo?"

The Viera gave a questionable look before slowly shaking her head in response, replying, "She is not here, Vaan. She best come soon."

A flutter rose in Vaan's chest at this. Should he have tapped on her door? Penelo would surely be sour towards him for letting her oversleep. Maybe he would buy her a gift with the money he had received from Migelo, or even bring her out for some good food.

Nodding, Vaan headed back for the house with a hurried pace – shuffling through the growing crowds of venders and tourists as they emerged into the bright, early morning sunlight. Jogging up the steps and sweeping into the house, Vaan glanced swiftly around the item store as Migelo's bulky form shuffled to face him. His angry expression eased into surprise as he spotted his stepson.

"Vaan, I'm surprised you're awake!" the Bangaa proclaimed boastfully. "Penelo usually has to drag thee from the covers."

Welcome passing through him needlessly, Vaan only nodded at the mismatched words, before interjecting suddenly as he headed for the wooden stairs, "No time, Migelo. I have to wake Penelo."

Pausing at the staircase end and looking up over the railing with glass bottle in hand, Migelo called up, "She ain't here."

With foot on the landing of the hallway, Vaan halted at these words. Back stiffening, he turned a startled gaze to the Bangaa, attempting to register the simple statement. Migelo gave the youth a puzzling look.

As Vaan came storming down the stairs, he turned towards him, calling, "What's wrong?"

The reply was the slam of the wooden door and the cringe of rusty hinges.

-

* * *

-

The clock tower bell's resound announcement of nine made Penelo raise her gaze worriedly. She was supposed to be starting her first show at this moment. What would happen without her? Would the band simply improvise? When would someone start looking for her?

Penelo's hopes rose a little, knowing that Vaan at least wouldn't give up until he had found her. It was a humorous thought, knowing that Vaan's stubbornness and dedication would come in handy. She must have slipped a smile, because her kidnapper sent a strange look her way. At this, Penelo's face fell again, and she glanced back to her limply cupped hands.

Returning his gaze to the bustling streets below of fluorescent color and strange tongues, Locke stated clearly, "It won't be long now. You're friend is searching for you." Penelo dared a half-glance at the man, wondering if he was trying to either taunt her, inform her, or possibly even comfort her.

However, the man only gave a grunt. Thus far, he had given no reason for snatching Penelo from the streets – had made no demands, requests, or even spoken to her till a moment ago. What did he want with Vaan? Had he overhead something she said about Vaan's thievery? Did he belong to Archades?

_No_, Penelo decided almost instantly. _He was _stealing _from that merchant like a thief, not just taking_. _Maybe he's just after bigger change… _

Feeling suddenly confident, Penelo told her kidnapper firmly, "If you're looking for money, you've got the wrong girl!"

Turning a cold glare upon her that immediately made Penelo cringe, Locke observed her for a moment before a smirk broke his lips. Repositioning himself so he was facing her now, the man stated, "Don't worry, you won't be harmed." Returning his eyes to the streets below, he added more himself than to her, "Besides…I'm after something much more valuable…"

The way his voice drifted off sent a discouraging shiver through Penelo and she leaned over slightly herself to gaze at the sunlight filtering over her kidnapper's face. Upon waking to find him hovering over her, she had instantly recognized him solely as the thief she'd witnessed pilfering from the merchant yesterday afternoon. Peering more closely at him now, Penelo wondered if perhaps he was more than a common thief. His clothes were well kept, and in vibrant shades of blue, gray, off-white, and black. His white-blonde hair was smoothed back and combed. There was evidence of light stubble, but nothing that suggested he was in a desperate situation.

The girl's eyes widened as a new thought occurred to her. She had never encountered a man or outlaw quite like this, and Penelo began to consider he was a Pirate. What did this mean? Even Land Pirates didn't remain in large cities long, and weren't known for negotiations. They thought the process troublesome and risky – at least, that was the rumor and given explanation for the lack of stories about kidnappings. Most bar tales of negotiation with Pirates revolved around those wandering sea and air, not land.

Did that mean that this Pirate was after a ship of some sort? A flutter rose in Penelo's chest at the prospect of being before a Sky Pirate. She had never met one in person, but had spotted their crafts flying speedily overhead – a mere dark speck against the vibrant blue of the sky. They generally traveled by night to avoid notice, but there were some brave enough to venture as far as Spira.

With this thought curling in her mind, Penelo straightened herself before saying in a controlled tone, "If you're looking for a ship, you're looking in the wrong place." This seemed to attract the man's attention, because he stiffened where he leaned, though the thief's eyes remained fixated on those below. Noticing this instantly, Penelo continued a little hurriedly, "No one in Rabanastre owns a craft, and won't give you a ship."

The man turned towards her with a solemn expression, as if pondering over her words carefully. From the gleam in his eyes, Penelo could tell he was beginning to fully comprehend Rabanastre's pore situation. With Archadian soldiers shuffling the streets proudly, the city would be unable to take proper reaction to the girl's kidnapping. Penelo would remain in his care, and that would give him more trouble than less.

Stroking his narrow chin with gloved fingers in delicate thought, the man considered Penelo for a minute. Finally, a small smirk spreading over his features, he straightened and pushed off from the wall. Stepping closer to her, he continued, "I suppose you have a point there…" Half turning back towards the window, he added, "I suppose this just leaves me with one choice…"

A hopeful look passed over Penelo's face at these words. Would he really just let her go? She was afraid to think otherwise.

Penelo should have realized this change in expression a mistake, because her kidnapper turned towards her with a crafty smile, saying, "I have use for you and your friend yet…"

-

* * *

**Inspired Music: **N/A 


	11. CHPT 10: a Sky Pirate's Proposal

**CHAPTER TEN  
**

**a Sky Pirate's Proposal  
**

**-**

**-**

* * *

**- **

**FROM **the streets of Rabanastre, Vaan was unable to meet the sharp eyes watching his every visible movement. What possessed the youth to consider climbing the clock tower staircase to the top couldn't be said. Vaan would later ponder the situation – wondering if perhaps his connection with Penelo had directed him towards her. In a world of magic, this wasn't at all impossible.

From the first step, Vaan's legs shook with the urge to sprint up the winding staircase. However, he held back and took it one stair at a time – perspiration beading his forehead and temples. Licking his lips, Vaan could only wonder what was happening to Penelo. With the constant stream of strangers coming in and out of Rabanastre, it was no real surprise that ruckus had been stirred, but for what reason? Why Penelo?

The last thought sent a shiver of rage through the youth, and Vaan's feet carried him bounding up the winding steps and to the closed wooden door. Hand reaching for the brass doorknob, he barged through – feet sliding on the dust-covered floor. Two gazes shot towards him, and Vaan registered the scene in a moment before he running towards the blonde man with fists clenched. Bringing his arm around, the youth was drawn to a dramatic halt as his right hook slammed straight into the man's open palm.

For a few moments, a sharp look of contempt passed between the two men. A sudden blunt blow from the thief's elbow to Vaan's head crumpled the youth. Falling on his chin with a distinct clatter of teeth, Vaan groaned and shifted where he lay – deciding his next move. His vision swam, so the youth closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts to the situation at hand. His mind began to wonder towards what Penelo was doing, and what her kidnapper might do now.

The distinct sound of footsteps beside him made Vaan glance up. Groaning as he stirred, the youth peered to the solemn expression of the man. There was a serene and determined look resting in his eyes, and for a brief moment, Vaan felt connected to him. What this man was after wasn't clear.

Seated in the shadows, shrinking where she sat hunched, Penelo peered up at her kidnapper with a pitiful, worried look. The Pirate paused a few feet away, as if reconsidering his choice of actions. When the girl's face eased a little however, the man's expression hardened and he took a purposeful step forward. Reaching his arm towards her, the thief snatched Penelo's forearm in his powerful grip.

Grinding her teeth as his sharp nails dug through the light fabric to graze her skin, Penelo struggled now away from him. However, with only the wall to back her, she had no hope of resisting the man's strong grip.

Hauling his hostage to her stumbling feet, Locke looked now to Vaan glaring up at him – unsure of his next move now that Penelo rested in the Pirate's clutches. Observing the youth for a moment, the man suddenly smirked, saying, "I have a job for the both of you."

The airship docks rested in a closed off section just beyond Rabanstre borders – lying in the outskirts amongst high cliffs. A valley was spread out beside the shore. The docks built branching off from the towering overhangs lay as foreboding reaches to the sky in the veil of darkness that was night. No moon rested in the heavens this night, and the few scattered stars offered little light. However, they seemed brighter than ever before, and tagging along behind a hunched, quick-stepping Locke, Penelo paused in awe to admire the stars' luminosity. A light touch to her shoulder drew Penelo back to her situation. At the serious, but sympathetic look that Vaan gave her, she grimaced lightly before walking slowly and quietly to an impatiently waiting Locke.

The thief eyed the pair suspiciously, gesturing for them to walk ahead of him. Spotting the guard patrol rounding the range of cliffs further down the beach, Locke redirected their route towards the backend slopes leading up to the deserted cliff tops. The airships rested within the rock precipices. Fiddling with the safety on his pistol, Locke considered the pair before him. The boy was defiant but submissive when it came to the girl. The girl seemed anxious and worried, yet more relaxed and confident with her friend around. Locke considered ditching the boy altogether, but despite his devious actions; the Pirate didn't have it in him to pull the trigger of the weapon he held – not on someone so young and promising.

Keeping to the shadows, and covering stretches of fifteen feet at a time was a slow, steady progress towards the cliffs. At last, upon reaching the protection of the overhang of the smaller rock face housing most of the carrier aircrafts, Locke gestured for his hostages to pause and remain quiet. Shimmying his way stealthily to peer around the edge and down the slope towards the beach, he watched the bulky, indistinguishable forms of the guards making their way towards them slowly but surely. It would be mere minutes before they reached their position.

Inching his way around the side again, Locke strode past a anxiously watching Vaan and Penelo – gesturing them with a wave of his arm to follow. Though the gesture went unseen in the darkness, Vaan nodded towards their kidnapper's direction, and took up the rear as Penelo walked unsurely after the Pirate – hands wringing themselves before her.

Quickly and swiftly knocking the guard unconscious at the entrance, Locke slipped into the cavern's depths. Penelo followed clumsily, feet stumbling shakily down the small rock ledges after the Pirate's scuffling. As Vaan followed, he thought to taking Penelo and running. However dark it was though, a fuse from the pistol would light the area for a precise shot. Vaan didn't want to risk harm to his friend. Penelo already appeared very frightened and uncertain of herself.

The girl's light sobs and curses as she stumbled and tripped her way down after their kidnapper clutched Vaan's heart. He swore that when all this was done – if they were released safely – he would convince Penelo to give up dancing. If it meant Vaan taking on a second job, then so be it.

Moving more swiftly at the risk of falling, Vaan came up beside Penelo. Half catching himself upon the startled girl, he guided her the rest of the way down. Once they reached the bottom, the girl's shaking lessened some, and she gave her friend a grateful hug, that Vaan returned with a soft sigh. Her embrace was warm and welcoming. It was a reminder of why he didn't turn and bolt, and why he awoke each day. A sudden prickling on the back of his neck made Vaan look up into Locke's stern gaze, illumined by the faint glow of nearby torches resting on the cliff walls – magiked to remain lit.

Promptly, Vaan and Penelo took the lead again – this time, Vaan clasping her hand in his reassuringly. Peering into the shadows of the cavern, Vaan eyed the vessels resting parallel to one another. The ragtag threesome strode down the aisles of passages. Despite the situation, Vaan found himself thoroughly interested and excited to be so close to the airships. Penelo strode quietly at his side, eyes locked to the floor.

At least, Locke paused beside a merchant airship. Passing a torch from a wall he snatched, Locke ran a hand over the fine burgundy shade of the craft with its dimmed gold outlining. A flare of passion and greed flashed in the man's eyes.

"This is it," he barely muttered. The sound echoed lightly, bouncing off the walls to meet Vaan's ears late.

In a distinctly impatient and irritable tone, the youth prompted, "Will you release us then?" Penelo looked unsurely from her companion to the Pirate. Locke paused in his caressing, as if considering this statement thoroughly.

Turning towards the pair now, the man observed how close the girl stood to the lad. There was a sharp defiance in the youth's eyes that reminded Locke of himself at that age. Turning fully now, Locke stated in a clear tone, "We'll see." As Vaan's brow narrowed, a smirk spread over the Pirate's fair features, and he released a chuckled beneath his breath, while still eyeing the pair carefully. Brandishing the pistol before him as a friendly reminder – the metal glinting in the torchlight – Locke added, "Tell me, have you ever ridden an airship?"

Surprised by this odd question, Vaan only let his reaction show momentarily before he answered in a stout, suspicious tone, "What does that matter?"

Leaning against the craft, Locke replied, "It matters if you want to live."

There was a hesitant and anxious moment that passed tensely before them. A sob began and caught in Penelo's throat as she stepped half behind Vaan fearfully. Whatever comfort she had felt previously at her friend's presence was rapidly fading.

Eying Penelo for a moment, Vaan's gaze flickered to lock with the Pirate's again, and he stated in a calm, impassive tone, "No…I haven't."

Nodding as if satisfied, Locke stroked his chin, asking, "What if you were given the chance to _operate_ one?"

Vaan's heart fluttered at this. He had long dreamed of finding wings to soar from this dreaded place, now ruled by tourists and the Empire. He had never dreamed of the chance coming. Merchants didn't want to hire those with no experience, and Vaan hadn't wished to leave Penelo behind either.

Seeing that Vaan was easing at this question, Locke straightened as he stated in a serious tone – smirk gone; "I am giving you a choice – a chance. One you would never receive otherwise. Will you take it, and come aboard with me to lands far off?"

Head dizzying suddenly at this sudden request, Vaan's thoughts swayed with his emotions – a mixture of excitement, confusion, and contempt. Penelo appeared shocked into silence at his side, looking up at her friend for guidance and a sign of an answer. Locke waited as well – patient with a serious expression hardening his soft features.

Glancing at Penelo for a moment, Vaan looked to Locke again, prompting, "What happens if I refuse your offer?"

Considering this, Locke gave a stiff shrug of his pistol shoulder, replying, "Then you will return to your dingy life, as promised. I will leave this land, and you will have missed your chance. The choice lies with you, but I tell you this – make it quick and say it once alone."

Turning towards Penelo, Vaan was at a loss for words. This was a chance he may not have again, but the conditions of the situation was dangerous and uneasy. There was evident fear in the girl's eyes. Taking Penelo's hands in his, Vaan began softly but seriously, "Penelo, listen…"

She was already shaking her head. Penelo's shaking had sub-stilled and a seriousness passed over her face. Looking into her friend's eyes, she saw the need for this to be true and trustworthy resting there.

After a minute, Vaan looked to the Pirate, prompting, "Why me?"

Eying him for a moment, Locke replied, "I saw the way you admired the aircrafts resting in here. You share the same passion that rests in all Pirates – a need for freedom. I have watched the two of you on these streets, and noticed the resentment in your eyes at the Empire's presence. You wish to be free of them."

An understanding passed between their eyes, and Vaan turned again to Penelo for aid and guidance. Uneasiness swept the soft lines of Penelo's face, but after a moment, she merely gave a deep nod – resting her eyes on the cavern floor.

Looking to Locke now, Vaan released a deep breath, saying slowly, "I…can't argue with that." Nodding, he added more confidently, "We're in."

Returning the nod, the man continued to eye his new crew for several moments, before turning and heading up the ramp. Vaan hesitated momentarily where he stood, looking at Penelo as she paused at his side. In a quiet tone, he asked worriedly, "Are you sure about this?"

Meeting her companion's searching eyes, expression eased, Penelo shook her head, replying, "Truthfully Vaan, no. But it's like he said – I can't stand to live with the Empire any longer than you can. Maybe…maybe we can find something more waiting for us out there."

Vaan stared into Penelo's bright eyes – now dim with worry – before nodding once more and following Locke. His uneasiness slipped away with every stride as his feet took him closer to his future and dreams.

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**Inspired Music: **N/A


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